


Brujah

by Haunt_Haunt_Haunt



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Aztec Mythology - Freeform, Dresden Files but Not Gross, F/M, Gen, More in the notes, Post-Dead Beat, Pre-Turncoat, Real Nahuatl, Red Court of Vampires, The winter court, Unseelie Court, Unseelie Fae, White Council - Red Court War, White Council of Wizards, White Court of Vampires, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt/pseuds/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt
Summary: Dresden Files but without the dumb shit. Basically a story written in the world, synchronous with the timeline, but not with Harry Dresden as an MC. No ableism, chauvinism, or any of that other crap here, unless it's called out and challenged.
Comments: 53
Kudos: 47





	1. I, Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> I've been Special Interesting this fandom for awhile, and figured it was about time to give it my shot. It's a problematic fave. Jim Butcher gets better, but after re-reading the series, (I'm in the middle of Death Masks for like, the fifth time), I decided that if I was gonna do this, I was gonna call out the problems with the series.
> 
> That means cutting out Harry Dresden as a whole. he's a Mary Sue, and not even a compelling one. I made an OC the MC, but having a non-white, non-problematic MC was the only way I could stomach this one, so if that's not for you, I'm sorry. It's all I can do to not gag.
> 
> Mr. Butcher, if you're reading this, I'm a huge fan. Please don't sue me. You'd break my little heart. I own none of the characters or themes herein except for those that are original.
> 
> I'll flesh out the tags more as I write more. It was a brain fart I was kicking around, so I'm gonna let the story tell itself and update the tags as I post more chapters. They aren't set in stone. They may change as I add or remove elements.
> 
> As a request, the timeframe is before Turncoat, but after Dead Beat. It's a little nebulous, but those are the hard limits.
> 
> ~Update~
> 
> Hey! I've gotten a lot of positive comments on this work, and that's really inspiring, so I'm happy to announce that there's a sequel in the works. I hopefully have it out by the end of November.
> 
> That said, if you do like this, I'm working on an original novel too for full blown publishing, and it runs on some of the same magical principles that I have laid out here. If you'd like to get updates for that, please hop on over to my author page on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Tiago-Castellano-104567631301348 and do me a favor and follow for updates. Tell your friends. I need the momentum. Thanks for and reading this far, now onto the story!

The phone rang.

That could mean a lot of things, and I glowered at it very grumpily, but not too grumpily, lest it burst into flames.

Thing one, it could be the White Council, which didn’t appeal to me. I didn’t want to be a Warden, but I figured it was better to join the grey cloaks while I still had the chance, than be suspected for some kind of crime later on when I refused to be a good little soldier.

Thing two, it could be Abuelita. She was a Brujah herself, but when she called it was normally friendly. She’d need an ingredient found in the Nevernever or needed a sounding board for one of her experimental spells. That would be a fine phone call.

Thing three, it could be my apartment complex reminding me that rent was due a week ago. I was pretty aware of that. You didn’t have to be a wizard to read a calendar, but the Council and the Wardens weren’t aware that minimum wage in America was at least eight an hour, and with how slow they worked, even if had succeeded in a wage strike of some kind, it’d take years to implement, not to mention that it’d get shot down because of the war with the Reds. Fuck Harry Dresden for starting this war, but he did it for noble reasons. He did the right thing, really. That didn’t mean he had the right to be a terrible and self righteous asshole, and the goddamned chauvinism.

I picked up the phone before his thoughts about Dresden also made it explode.

“Seraphim,” I said curtly.

“Oh good, I was afraid I got Francisco’s Taqueria,” said a curmudgeonly but warm voice on the other end. She spoke entirely in Spanish. I dropped into it without prompting. Fuck yeah to being bilingual.

“I don’t need to know about your relationship with Francisco, Lita.” I said, actually managing a smile. Calls from my grandmother were never unpleasant.

“Don’t you judge me and Francisco. You came from somewhere, Mijo,” she said with a cackle, and I didn’t want to travel down that particular road of discussion.

Why? It was mi abuela. Don’t be gross.

“Did you need something, or did you just call to hear me vomit?”

“Hush. I do need something actually. I’m working on counteracting Red venom.”

That was definitely on behest of the council. It was a good plan though. There weren’t many alchemists and potion-makers left in the world like Abuela. She was an old world Brujah, that actually flew around on a broom and was friends with Maria Sabina. That also meant she knew a lot of forgotten knowledge.

She didn’t, however, get around well, being the several hundred years old that she was, and with the battlescars from when she was a battlemage and Warden for the Council, so it often fell to me to collect the ingredients, and I was happy to do it. That didn’t mean I wasn’t gonna waffle about rent though. I had to work.

“What exactly do you need, Lita? I have a job I have to do,” I said, writing a few notes on the paper I was grading. Teaching a beginning course in Occult Sciences as a graduate and not tenured paid almost as well as the Wardens, but with both of them, I normally managed to eek by…. Barely.

“Funny you should ask. I need a sample of the venom.”

“Absolutely not,” I said immediately. I wasn’t about to go tromping into a vamp lair to collect narcotic spit from a horrendous and supernaturally fast and strong monster, master evocator or no.

“Mijo, I’m joking,” she said with a smile in her words. “I wouldn’t ask you to be that irresponsible. You can handle that by yourself. I just need some Redcap blood.”

“Right, cause I want to call up the Redcap,” I said. I knew I was gonna do it, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t bitch about it. It wouldn’t be all that bad, really. The Redcap was pleasant enough if you treated him well. I didn’t know why so many people had trouble with the Unseelie. Respect them and the fact that they are more dangerous than you can ever hope to be, and you’ll be fine. Don’t make deals either.

Unfortunately, I was gonna have to make a deal with said Redcap to get some of his blood. “Just to clarify, you want some blood from his cap, and not his actual blood, right?”  
“Si. That’s all. I don’t need a lot either. I’ll have a check waiting for you when you get here.”

Now I definitely couldn’t say no. I needed to pay rent. “Alright. You convinced me. I gotta finish papers, but I’ll go get the Redcap blood.”

“Fantastic! Also, they put a rush order on this antidote. I don’t know if that means we are about to go on the offensive, are expecting an attack, or are about to open a supernatural version of a methadone clinic, but you need to be ready as a Warden.”

I nodded like she could see me, and ran a hand through my dark hair. She wasn’t supposed to tell me that, but magic rarely ran through bloodlines, and blood was thicker than White Council red tape. “Alright. Thanks for the info.”

“Goodby Mijo. I love you,” she said, and hung up the phone. I put down my end, which was an old rotary connected to a landline, and sighed. Classy, with a rotary phone. That’s me. I finished grading the paper I was on, one of the three big ones that I actually graded throughout the year, and frowned at it.

My class wasn’t exactly difficult. I didn’t grade on attendance, because that’s ableist, and each paper was thirty percent of the grade with the other ten percent being based on the various tests. No homework. All you had to do to pass the class was listen in class and participate in discussion. So why was it that the papers that came in were all terrible?  
Funnily enough, the only good paper I’d gotten so far was the holy roller in the front row that spent the whole paper vehemently denying that magic existed, and attributing everything else to miracles or acts of divine will. I was impressed. They came to the right conclusion for the wrong reasons. I still gave them an eighty nine out of spite. Like hell I was gonna give an A for that kind of belligerence.

I sighed again. We weren’t debating the veracity. The very first day, I said that in that classroom, we were under the assumption it was real. So why then, on a paper that’s discussing theory, are we discussing plausibility? They were supposed to be talking about their thoughts on tarot and how they thought it worked and why, not whether or not it worked and why. I rubbed at my eyes, and picked up the next paper. I’d knock out one more before I went to Faerie and risked my neck.

The Various Applications of Magic Throughout History (2,000 years of dumb shit before vine, what a loss) by Virginia Fitzgerald. I blinked. I was pretty sure I remembered who that was. The redhead that sat in the middle row. I was kinda embarrassed to say that I remembered her because of her great rack. What a beacon of feminism I was. I snorted at her title though. That was definitely an accident. I circled it with my blue pen, then noted it with “Yeah, it sure is.” then snorted and started reading it.

“When Oily Josh and the gang got up to shit, they went all out.”

That was the opening. I lost it. The paper was hilarious, and I don’t think it was supposed to be, so I wrote myself a note to talk to her before I handed her the graded paper.

After that, I stood and went into my lab - slash - staging area to go visit the Unseelie, and a particular fairy that would kill mortals and soak it’s hat in their blood. Who says being a wizard isn’t fun.


	2. Lex Magicka

Laboratory and staging area was a cute way to say the extra bedroom where I stored all my magical gizmos. My apartment, or the house I rented was billed as a double master, meaning that both the bedrooms were fairly large. It also meant that my actual entertaining space was even larger with a covered porch, not like I needed all the space. I normally went out if the Dean of the Department wanted to talk, and we’d go have a few beers. Rather, he’d have a few beers and I’d eat a burger at his favorite pub and microbrew. He paid so I didn’t argue. Most of my other friends that I met in college left after their degrees, and the other few that I had almost felt alienated because of the Wizard thing.

The room itself was clean and organized, on a good solid wood floor. I always did like hardwood. Instead of a bed though, I had placed one long pop up table, and cluttered along the walls were bookcases, shelves, and other furniture meant to hold objects, and being held by them was the tupperware, plastic, and metal containers that held my components. Some were positively mundane like paper clips, and some were esoteric like the heartblood of a dragon (Don’t ask.) I reached onto the shelf that held my journals, grimoires, books of shadows, and other accoutrements and pulled out my fae compendium, just to refresh myself with the Redcap. I had a habit of talking out loud to myself as I worked, and I pulled out some bunsen burners to make a few potions as I read. Abuela said that if you’re in your lab, you might as well make some potions. They’re useful for a variety of purposes, and they’re low maintenance anyway. She was the master alchemist. I’d listen to her.

“Alright, Redcap.” I checked the cover, making sure I grabbed the compendium, then rifled through pages while I focused on the potions I’d make. Definitely one to get out of the Nevernever fast. A Teleportation potion. To send me screaming back home.

Making a potion is relatively simple. You get a base, usually a liquid, to a boil, and while you do that, you add in the ingredients. Most wizards use a total of eight ingredients. Five for each sense, one for mind, one for spirit, and one for the base, but Abuela taught me, and she comes from old school. We eschew the senses. We add an ingredient for each classical element, one for spirit, and a drop of blood, for yourself. The number of ingredients were less, and it wasn’t a big difference. It was more of a reflection of magic.  
Magic comes from yourself. It is you in every aspect. Because of that, it works differently. For example, I use the classical western school of elements when I cast a spell, cause that’s what I grew up with. The pentacle, with blood. It was Mi Abuela's mishmash of the classical schooling that she learned, and the blood to represent the Aztec blood magic that was her heritage. However, someone like Ancient Mai would operate on Eastern elements, so instead of Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Spirit, and Blood, she would use Fire, Water, Wood, Metal, and Earth. It was those key differences that caused some of the larger friction in the White Council and the magical community as a whole, but I’m not a philosopher. Abuela taught me a certain way, the ancient Aztec way, and I follow it.

So, I got out a few ingredients. I used Pepsi for the base. It was all I drank in the house usually. Then I added some of my pipe tobacco for wind, a splash of water from my sink, a tiny splinter of wood from the floorboard for earth, a bit of ash from my fireplace for fire, and a petal from the rose on my ofrenda for spirit, then a drop of my blood, and I let it boil, stirring it a little.

The second potion I decided to make a little different. Something that would make me a bit harder to hurt if things went poorly. That was a common one for wizards. I added a stone for earth, a chunk of ice for water, a small shard of obsidian for fire, and the small bit of gale force winds that I had stored. All of that was as solid as the elements could get. Then, I added in a small quartz for spirit, and a drop of my blood, pricking my finger again with the athame I carried with me, which was actually a sharp as fuck obsidian dagger. Then I stirred the ingredients together, went to stir the other one, and read.

“Mr. Redcap. You were known to stop people in Ireland and ask if they wanted to play a game. It was a quiz game. You’d ask three questions. They get all three right, and you’d grant them wealth beyond their wildest dreams, but if they got it wrong, you got their blood.” I stirred the other potion and adjusted the heat a little. “I bet those questions were entirely fair and not the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow. When they got it wrong, you’d dash their head open on a rock and soak your hat in their blood, which is a compulsion for you, apparently. So I should expect that.”

I puffed out a breath, turning and strapping on a ring I had made for occasions like this. It was carved from the wood of Dipteryx Odorata. Cumaru wood. Brazilian Teak in some carpentry circles. It’s one of the densest timbers known to man, and the Aztec relied on it for its strength, so Abuela insisted it be used for my first foci, and I decided that the hardest wood would make the best shield. She was so proud, and together, we carved it, fire hardened it, burned symbols of shields and runes of warding into it, then I used my blood and willpower to enchant it. It was subtle and small enough to be almost unnoticed, but when activated, it’d surround me in a second skin that felt like spiderwebs and looked like smoke for as long as I focused on it, and it had the ability to nullify physical attacks and reflect spells, but only if I focused on it, meaning I couldn’t really fight back.

That’s why I grabbed the other object. Most wizards used staves and wands, I used the black dagger that I had as an athame. I didn’t need it to cast evocations. I learned evocations from mi abuela, who was a battlemage and a Warden before I was even a thought. She was one of the best evocators in the world, and she passed a lot of that talent to me. It was no wonder I was picked for the Wardens. However, the athame, while being great for physical defense, worked really well for thaumaturgy. The Aztecs did sacrifice. I wasn’t so different really, but I did a lot less human sacrifice and a lot more symbolic sacrifice. It worked really well for thaumaturgy, and the dagger was key in that.

Then, I grabbed the obsidian earbobs, which were actually stored with extra energy in case I got exhausted casting spells. Sure, it came from inside you, but there was only so much one person could hold in. I then turned back to my potions, stirring them, and taking a look at the drawings and depictions of the Redcap that had been photocopied and put in the compendium. Thank goodness for knowledgable normies.

Finally, I found my Warden’s sword. It wasn’t far, and it was nice to have a sword around. They tried to give me a silver number when I was inducted, but I refused. Silver was one of the objects that the Spanish used, and not the Aztecs, and because of that, I doubted it would work with my magic harmoniously. Luccio however, liked a challenge, and a few weeks later, she hand delivered me a beautiful and ornate hard leather scabbard inlaid with swirling gold inlay designs of the Aztec god of the flayed, known as the Flayed One. I drew out the four foot green obsidian blade and felt the power humming through it. The green obsidian was a divine obsidian found only in Mexico, in Tierra de Espadas. It was the holy type of obsidian, being seen as sent from the Flayed One himself, and Luccio apparently did her research. She got some of the good cognac after that, and even Abuela was impressed with the blade.

I talk alot about mi abuela, but that’s because my mother was worthless, and the magic skipped her entirely. She did little more than birth me, and when it was discovered I had magic, she disowned me, and I lived with mi Abuela as a child in Oaxaca. It was a good place to grow up, and she was a good person to grow up with, and because of her, I have a huge leg up in the supernatural community, though I guess my social skills aren’t too great, so yeah, I talk about her a lot because she was my mother, teacher, and guardian all rolled into one. She’s the most important person in my life, and I dread the day she’s not there anymore.

I cleared my head of that mess, then focused my will into the two potions in front of me. There was a pop sound and they both fizzled. I smiled, then put them in bottles where I could get to them easy, and grabbed my backpack, settling them in the drink holders. I then threw in some generic thaumaturgy stuff, like a cardboard cylinder of salt, some symbolic representations of animals, a few cool rocks and what not. I made sure I had some chalk in there, and put a few chunks of different colors into my shirt pocket. I was wearing a black button up, like usual with a green tie. I’d leave the sports jacket at home, and traded out the slacks for jeans. Lastly, I grabbed my keys and my wallet, cause I was gonna have to get home at some point, and went into the living room, staring at the fireplace. I took my athame, Poked my thumb, and ran it across the mantle, whispering to myself, “Tlapouki kaltentli.”

The fireplace shimmered and then there was no fireplace, but a snowy field, and as a few snowflakes drifted in, they immediately melted to a gooey substance and hit the floor. I grabbed my leather coat, then went into the heart of Winter.


	3. The Shivering Door

As far as stepping between worlds went, mine was pretty smooth. I found a portal of some kind and just changed the destination. Other wizards were vulgar enough to just rip a hole in reality. Not me. That did limit where I could step through though, and it meant I was stepping through a doorway on the other side. In this instance, I did exactly that. I was standing in my leather coat, with my warden sword at my waist, and before I even got a chance to look around, I took a hook to my jaw almost enough to break it and ended up prostrating on the ground. A ring of icicle stalagmites surrounded me, and I cursed, then looked up. Standing over me was a woman with bright red hair, dressed in a blue and green gown. She wore an interesting athame at her waist, and her cat slit eyes were firmly settled on me. Of course, it had to be her.

“Ah, a wizard. I caught a wizard today,” She said mostly to herself and circled around the ring she had made, infused with her will to keep me inside of it.

“You must be the Leanansidhe,” I said, getting my legs back under me and standing, even though my face was reddening quickly. The portal that I had made had closed as soon as I stepped through it. I made sure to do that whenever I crossed into Nevernever. Doorways and what not.

“So I am. Are you a friend of my godson?”

“I know Dresden, but we don’t associate. I’m here of my own accord for purposes that are my own. I’m sorry to have intruded on your…” I looked around at my surroundings. It looked to be a cave made out of ice, with a bookshelf, a table full of bits and bobs, and on the wall to my left, there was a huge silver doorway that seemed to fluctuate in solidity, as if reality itself was having trouble holding it. It made my head swim and hurt to look at it, and there were carvings on it that seemed to move and roil before I could really make out what they were. “Lair,” I finished. I didn’t come out of this door. I came out of the smaller one off to the side.

She let out a light laugh. “Not my lair, wizard. You simply startled me. I don’t like prying eyes,” She waved her hand and the icicles started to melt with a crackling sound.  
I bowed deeply. “Then I am at your service, Leanansidhe, for letting me out of your prison.”

“Hardly. It’s just Lea, for starters, and it was hardly a fair capture. I sucker-punched you then erected a circle before you could get up. If it was a fair fight, I’d feel differently.” She turned, clearly writing me off as a guest, or a tolerable nuisance instead of a threat.

“And do you mind if I ask what you’re doing?”

“Certainly. I’m trying to figure out what is behind this door.”

“Probably something old and powerful by the size of it. Maybe a vault.” I said like an idiot, and she regarded me as one.

“Obviously, but it’s existence should not be. Follow,” she said and almost floated out the doorway I came through. She followed me, and we emerged into the snow I saw from the fireplace and went around to the outside of the cave. This is where the door would have led, into the heart of Winter, except there was no other side of the door, and that meant that the door was a lot like my spell, and led somewhere else altogether. “It appeared a fortnight ago. We got word from a wyldfae runner that Summer had one similar to it in a mossy cave. It was made of ancient oak, and appeared around the same times ours did as well. They also have someone trying to figure out what it is. Mab called in a favor, so here I toil.” she headed back into the cave.

“That’s odd. It just appeared?”

“Yes. Out of the blue. Some of us felt it. Mab ordered a scout out, who found it, then he reported back, and now I’m here.”

I nodded, then shrugged. “Well, good luck with that. Do you know where I can find Redcap?”

She snorted. “You won’t offer your assistance? My godson would jump on that in a heartbeat.”

“I’m not him. I keep my nose out of business that isn’t mine.”

She nodded. “Then you’re far wiser. It’s what I’d expect from Estrella’s prodigy. She was cagey as well.” That was mi abuela. It was the name she gave to denizens that didn’t need her true name. Lea put a finger to her chin and pouted out her lips in thought. “I believe Redcap is a guest of the queen currently. I doubt you will have much trouble getting there if you walk north. It’s the big glowing spire in the distance.”

“Thanks for the assistance.”

“It’s no worries. Consider it my apology for the sucker-punch.”

I turned to go, but something nagged at me about the doorway. I tried to will myself to go on, but I couldn’t. I sighed and turned back to her. “Do you want me to see if I can figure out something about the doorway?”

Her eyes gleamed. “A wizard can’t resist an enigma can they?”

“I’m not gonna broker a deal over it, but if I happen to have time, I can look for something. If I find something useful, I can just call you? It’s Leanansidhe right?” I said her name the proper way, with the proper inflection, and she flinched. Names have power, and saying it in the way it comes from that creatures' own lips can compel or conjure them. Even beings from the Nevernever. Especially beings from the Nevernever. Mi Abuela had a compendium. It was like a dictionary. It really paid off to be in your third century of existence.

Lea lips turned up like the Cheshire Cat. “I like you, boy. You remind me of Estrella, for certain. I’d appreciate that very much, and will consider it repayment for giving you directions.”

I nodded, then tramped out into the snow. She was right, a wizard couldn’t leave an enigma alone, damn it.

It was a few hours before I got to the actual Heart of Winter, capitalized, and the fortress of Arctis Tor. It was a solid fortress made of black ice that extended up for what looked like a mile, and I knew that Queen Mab didn’t install an escalator and she was likely in the throne room at the top. As I approached, there were two trolls in chainmail guarding the door to the tower itself, and there were two platoons of goblins, complete with grey skin and bulbous noses and bat-like ears drilling on either side of the tower. Mab’s royal guard. I’d need to be careful. I approached the trolls and bowed low, then straightened, rested my hand on the hilt of my blade, but not as if to draw, and spoke loudly, so as to at least look like I was there on business. Trolls are at least ten feet tall and incredibly strong, and these were in armor and wielding ornate hammers. I did my best not to gulp as I spoke.

“I came to speak to the Redcap, who I was informed was a guest of Mab. I request entry so that I may strike a bargain with him, as is my right as a member of the White Council of Wizards.”

One of the trolls looked at me, then said in a particularly smooth tenor with an oxford accent, “There’s no need to shout. I have ears. Please wait here.” He then nodded at his partner and wandered inside gracefully, heading up some stairs. I blinked confused, then nodded at his partner.

“‘Sup dude.”

“How do you do?” The troll asked, totally ready for the small talk. I guess only wyldfae trolls were slobbering beasts of burdens.

“Well, I suppose. A bit cold.”

“It is. Colder than it normally is in the Heart of Winter. I can’t wait to end my shift.”

I didn’t know what else to say, and wasn’t expecting small talk with a troll, so I sat silently, shoving my hands in my pockets instead of blowing on them like I wanted to. Next time, I’d need gloves. It was colder than Everest here. The troll came back down. “Queen Mab grants thee audience,” he said. “The sword stays with us.”

I nodded, unhappy about it, and untied it from my waist, then offered it to the troll. He frowned at it. “Are you a servant of the Flayed One?”

“No, but I prefer to have his blessing when I cut into my enemies.”

The troll frowned, but took it carefully. Luccio made sure to not use Iron or steel fastenings because of how often I’d cross over to Faerie. They were all silver or obsidian, like the blade, but the black kind. I walked past them into the tower and walked up the winding staircase to talk to the Queen of Air and Darkness and one of her more bloodthirsty courtiers and nobles. Things were just getting more fun every minute.


	4. The Queen of Air and Darkness

I was right about the escalator. There were so many fucking stairs. I started up them quickly, but after about a minute, I slowed, working on my breathing. The troll could probably take them several at a time, but I was getting wheezy and doubted I was halfway up. It didn’t help that they were kind of slick being made of ice. This place was a deathtrap. I tried a bit more carefully, trying not to focus on what my body would look like ragdolling down them if I lost my balance. I knew how to go completely limp to minimize skeletal damage, but the bruising would have me in a hospital anyway.

Luckily, I made it to the top of the tower, and stepped into what looked like an ice garden. There were statuesque trees, frozen flowers in bloom, and even a few ice sculpture swans sitting motionless in a frozen lake. That dominated the middle of the room. At the head of it sat the man… err… fae, I was looking for. He looked pretty normal, with long black hair, though his face was a little vulpine and he had long canines. He was wearing a dark coat and a red Cincinnati baseball cap. Bingo. I needed the blood from that hat. Next to him, further up on the dais, was a throne with a massive snowflake over where the head would be, and seated in that throne was a very beautiful woman. She had long white hair that was pulled up into a bun and held in place with a single stick, and hanging off that stick was a silver snowflake. She was dressed in an elegant gown made of blue and white and it had a sheen to it that made it shimmer like ice. She wore opalescent jewelry, and had the same shine on her nails, and she smiled in a way that was eye catching, beautiful, and deadly.

I bowed deeply before them and didn’t stand back up, as was proper. “Queen Mab, Redcap, I bid thee greetings.”

“Stand wizard.” Mab said, waving her hand. “My troll said you wished to make a bargain with my vassal?” She gestured at Redcap.

“Of course, my queen, and if you’d like, you could officiate the bargain and stand as witness. I’d be honored.”

She pursed her lips, and Redcap smiled and leaned back. He looked positively dapper, like the nice guy you’d ask to watch your baby in the car for a few minutes. I advise that you don’t do that. Faeries have been known to steal babies. “You could, however, make such a deal with me. I do command him.” She said, steely eyed.

No. Now, I couldn’t just say that. I had to be diplomatic about it, but absolutely not. Making a deal with the Redcap was one thing, but making a deal with Mab, the queen of Air and Darkness, was another altogether. I was asking to be troll food.

“I am honored, my queen, but my bargain has to do with some of the blood from the Redcap’s… well, red cap, and it would be improper to ask for such a small item from the great Winter Queen.”

Her eyes flashed. She read through the politicking and heard the no. “Your flattery does no good here, Wizard. Make the bargain with me, or be gone. Those are your options.”  
I chewed over them. Abuela would tell me to just leave. It wasn’t worth the Redcap’s blood, and she could probably find a substitute, but the keyword was probably, and whether I was happy to be a Warden or not, I took the cloak, and that meant that this was my responsibility. That antivenom could save a lot of lives, especially if we could mass produce it, which was no doubt the plan.

They had antivenom. It existed, but it only worked after contact. This was no doubt a preemptive potion, and that was worth its weight in gold, if not more. I had little choice.  
“Very well. You know what I desire. Enough Redcap blood to fill a jar of my choosing.” I pulled out one of my larger mason jars that I carried for events like this. “What is your price?”

She got the gleam in her eye. She had strong-armed me and won, and she knew it. “What do you know about what my court is referring to as the Shivering Door?”  
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I suppose that’s the door that Lea is working on? I was already going to look into that as a bargain.”

“Then I suppose that you can fulfill two bargains. I need to know what it is, what it’s for, and how to make it go away. You do that, and I’ll go ahead and give you the blood you seek, in advance.”

“And is there a time limit on this favor?”

She pursed her lips. “Unless you know when it opens, then preferably before it opens. Since we don’t know when that is, as quickly as possible, though, don't neglect your other duties. I’ll call the Leanansidhe off of her research.”

“Then the bargain is struck?”

She nodded. “Red, fill the jar.”

The Redcap stood up with a growl and walked over, taking off his hat, and those long black tendrils of hair connected to more of it of course. He looked like an elf, but with black hair. Not some horrendous monster. He took the cap in both hands, held it over the jar, and wrung it out as if it was soaked with water. Blood poured through his fingers, into the jar, and there was a lot of it. How many men had he killed before? He held it until the jar was full, then let go, flicked his cap, and put it back on. It was a little less red than it had been, and I had expected droplets of blood to fling everywhere when he flicked it, but nothing happened, speaking of some kind of enchantment. I put the lid on the jar, then pulled out a lump of sealing wax and sealed the jar right there in her throne room. She didn’t seem to mind, and the flame guttered, obviously not working well in Arctis Tor. I finished and let the wax cool, which wasn’t going to take long. Mab and the Redcap watched me with inhuman stillness, and once I popped the jar into my bag and stood up, she spoke again.

“As much information as possible, Wizard. I would suggest speaking to your Council. They likely have that information.”

I bowed deeply to the both of them, and heard them talking quietly as I disappeared behind the column and started down the stairs. It wasn’t going to take me long to get out, and I went over the details I picked out as I wandered out of the tower, past the trolls, and towards the exit of Arctis Tor, shoving my hands in my pockets.

Mab didn’t know what the door was, and Titania didn’t either, and that told me that it wasn’t a Faerie Door. Not unless it was a particularly powerful wyldfae, and the only one of those that jumped to mind was the Erlking, or the old god, Cernunnos, and I was incredibly hopeful that it wasn’t him. That would mean trouble. He was as strong as the Faerie queens, and if the wyldfae had an equivalent, it was that guy, but I checked my watch. It wasn’t time for the Wild Hunt, and he normally stayed quiet until then, so that opened other avenues.

So who could it be? Who would put a door that quivered with reality into the heart of the Faerie Courts? My list was short, and I didn’t like it, and honestly, the way it quivered and caused a headache spoke of Outsider, and that was the last thing I wanted to deal with. The things outside the gates.

The older wizards talked about it in whispers, calling them things like the nameless, the Elder horror, and whatnot. I had a different take on it. Have you ever read Lovecraft? It was like that, really, except not in space, but a different dimension. The hungry, the soulless, the eldritch, and the mad. They all were considered Outsiders. Only one of them ever managed to get through, the herald of Azathoth, and it’s the only reason we know anything about them. Also, yeah, I told you one of them’s names. Go ahead and try to conjure the Devourer of Worlds. I’ll wait.

… Yeah, that’s what I thought. The herald was still running around out there somewhere, and I worried I may have to find him to get to the bottom of this enigma.

All that said, it led me in a direction I didn’t want to go in. I knew a Wizard AND an expert on the outsiders, and he was watching the Gate. That was his job. They don’t just call you the Gatekeeper for no reason. That meant that I had to make my way there and talk to him.

I shivered, and not because I was cold.


	5. The Outer Gates

This wasn’t a place that any mortal man was meant to tread, and it looked like a warzone. As I approached, I felt the sheer wrongness of it, even where I stood, and I stopped on a hill a fair distance away, where I could see the Gates. There were two towers, each the size of the Strat, and between them a huge crystal gate was suspended, but it was closed… for now. I approached that massive crystal gate, only to watch it open slightly, and a squad of goblins rolled out in formation, dressed in Faerie Mail. Queen Mab’s army. They were the ones that held the gate, so say what you wanted about the Winter Court, they were keeping everyone else from the madness and the horror behind the gates. I was stopped a few yards away, a gloved hand being put in front of me, and I stopped immediately. The hand was connected to a man covered in deep purple, almost black robes, and he had a gnarled staff made of what I suspected was argan wood. His head was in the shadows of the cowl he had up, but I knew who he was.

“Rashid,” I said with a nod. We had dispensed with formalities a good while ago.

“Seraphim. I never expected you to meet me out here,” he said, then turned with a tap of his staff and started walking. I was to follow him.

“You didn’t think I came to open the gates, did you?”

“I think you know that I’m here, and would have sent a proxy in your stead. Still, it begs the question.”

I sighed and we walked into one of those great towers and headed up.

“I promised to do Mab a favor in exchange for some ingredients, and that favor made me think of Outsiders, so I came to speak to the expert.”

“And that expert is me.” I could hear a warm smile in his voice. The old man definitely appreciated the compliment.

“The closest we have anyway.”

We emerged onto a parapet overlooking the fierce battle below. I didn’t like what I saw. They say that wizards have stronger minds than most mortals. That somehow, their calling of the Forces of Creation afforded them some kind of protection against the visages of the Outsiders. I really wish that it wasn’t the case.

I can’t describe the things I saw. Not all of them. Some of them had forms, such as the rolling balls of tentacles, eyes, and mouths, or the giant wormlike creatures that burrow out of the ground, standing as tall as the towers we were in and parting their mouths into four long appendages. Even still, there were the tentacled faced horrors that floated silently in what looked like burial shrouds, launching devastating blasts from the mouths on their midsections, but there were just as many that I couldn’t describe, because we didn’t have words for the new colors, the new Non-Euclidian features.

And everywhere, the armies of Winter fought them. There were trolls battling the tentacled things, oozing blood as they pummeled them down, goblins, scores of them, were harrying one of the worms with wolfpack like tactics, trying to bring it down, and I watched as the new squadron tensed, then charged in formation at a swirling ghast of color that made a bum rush at the now closing gates. They clashed with the sounds of mithril on what could have only been flesh. Then the gates boomed closed. This was a war, and one that had been waged for likely millions of years. Rashid had spoken of it only a little. Sometimes the faeries would push them back, and sometimes, they had to barely squeeze in a squadron under heavy cover fire to keep things from getting out. The men here were incredibly brave, and it was a suicide post. They all knew it, but they fought all the same, and I felt a strong sense of gratitude for these fae. Fuck the military of America, this was something else altogether. They didn’t fight for a nation’s greed, fear, or paranoia. They fought because no one else would.

And I knew that very rarely, and only rarely, a soldier would come back to the other side, his mind fractured, and carrying so many injuries. Those veterans, when they healed up, were terrifying, and Rashid was one of them. A shiver went down my spine.

He must have noticed, He sat at the table set up on the parapet, with another seat across for me, and slid over a tea cup. “Sling some Spellfire if it makes you feel differently. We are holding. Nothing has come through.”

I considered unleashing something at the worm the goblins were fighting, but it wouldn’t do anything but make it more furious. Instead, I sat across from Rashid. “That’s not what I was insinuating, sir.”

“Sir, is it? Your grandmother was apprenticed to me, not you. Even then, I told her to never call me sir.”

“What, I can’t be respectful to a good friend?”

“Maybe if you visited more than just when you need information.” He grinned then, his bright white teeth showing in the hood. The man definitely brushed. “So, what do you need? Mab hasn’t sent any runners.”

“A door appeared close to Arctis Tor. A similar one appeared in Summer, I assume near Titania’s fortress, except it was made of ancient oak, according to the runner. Mab’s was made of silver. She wanted to know where it came from.”

“Interesting. Describe this door,” Rashid said, and sipped his tea as I did so. It was hard to forget what was on it, indescribable as some of the beings that I could see below, even when it didn’t shift from my eyesight. When I finished, my eyes had settled to the lighting, and I could see his face in the cowl. He looked concerned. “Seraphim, this is dangerous business. I know you can’t get out of it, but you shouldn’t have agreed in the first place.”

“Is it Outsider in nature?”

His mouth made a firm line, and he leaned back, dropping into Spanish. The native language was easier for both of us. English was hard, and it was bullshit that people thought the world should run on it and latin, but then, Spanish was latin based, wasn’t it? “I don’t know. It definitely sounds like it, but it sounds a little TOO Outsider, if you catch my drift.”

“Like someone made it to look Outsider, but did too good a job?”

“I mean, think about it. A doorway like that, how could anyone think anything else? And the Outsiders are great fall guys. They won’t even try to defend themselves. Just attack and twist the mind instead.” He poured himself some more tea. “Of course, it could still be Outsider. I’d have to see it to make sure, and I can’t leave my post.”

“Could I take a picture?”

“It doesn’t work like that, besides, do you have a working camera in the Nevernever?”

“I don’t know, but usually I use a polaroid.”

“Where do you get the film?”

I snorted. “Specialty outlets.”

He chortled a small amount, then drained his tea and stood. “I’ll escort you back down. When I get some free time, I’ll go take a look at the door, but you’re on your own until then. Just know that if it’s an Outsider, it’d have to be strong, and those doorways likely lead out there, to the Blind Idiot God’s court.”  
“Are we talking Nyarlyhotep or King in Yellow?”

“When your cosmic power is that great, it’s basically splitting hairs.”

We got to the bottom of the tower, and he went to say something, but there was a shout at the gate, and there were about twenty or so goblins shoving on the gate. Something had put a tentacle through the opening, and was trying to make its way in. Rashid started muttering, running over, and the staff started glowing.

As for me, well, I couldn’t just stand there. I focused my will as I ran, and shouted “Chikaktli!” The raw and unbridled force of the ground launched me up in the air toward the tentacle, and with a rasp, the obsidian blade was out and in my hand. I lifted it in an overhead swing, and came down on the end of the tentacle closest to the gate. The sword cut through it like butter, and whatever was on the other end screamed. The end of the tentacle fell and me with it, and I hadn’t given it that much thought when I jumped, but that was a good fifty foot free fall. And it was gonna hurt. I didn’t scream as I fell, tucking myself into a ball to lessen the impact and holding the sword tight so I didn’t chop off a limb, and landed on what felt like a bed of feathers. I glanced around, and realized I was a few feet off the ground. Then the bed of air vanished and I fell the rest of the way and landed on my ass. Rashid turned from me to the gate, and shouted something in a language I couldn’t understand. Strong wind rushed in and hammered into the gate, slamming it closed. It leapt out of the goblins’ hands.

I was coated in gross black sludge, the blood of the creature, which started to evaporate into black goo, not unlike ectoplasm. Rashid came up to me, his eyes shining. “Thanks for the help. Those creatures react to magic like humans do to fire, and that blade is made from it. Remind me to have Luccio make me one,” he said.

I snorted and wiped some of the goo onto his chest, and he let out a hearty laugh. “It’ll evaporate. As I was saying, you need to head home. Tell Maria I said hello.”

I nodded and headed back to winter, not about to open a way here. I got what I needed. I got assistance. I hoped I was wrong. I’m sure we both did.


	6. Old World

I emerged from my gate into the city of… well, somewhere in the Huautla de Jimenez municipality in the Oaxaca state of Mexico. You couldn’t really call it a city, and it was more of a farming community than anything. It was in the mountains, Sierra Mazateca, and it was a pleasant place to be. No one blinked as I emerged from the modest courthouse they had set up. Magic was a thing here. Mushrooms saw to that. More specifically, Psilocybe Cubensis. The Magic Mushroom. Maria Sabina was from here, and she made them famous, not that it brought them any money, but they were important to the Mazatec peoples, so that was fine. I preferred to stay away from it except for certain rites. My heritage was more ancient than even that one. That said, brotherhoods of Wizards, namely the Absinthe brotherhood, showed up to get a hold of some of those mushrooms for rituals, and they brought their magic with them.

I stepped out of my doorway and started down the street, heading to an abode in the mountains, not visible here, but you could see the smoke. It was on the outskirts, close to the ancestral home of Madre Sabina. I didn’t have to walk far to see someone I recognized. Carlos Ramirez got that cocky look on his face and walked toward me wearing the grey cloak of the Wardens.

“What are you doing out here, Los?” I asked as he fell into step beside me.

“Security. I don’t also need to tell you who I’m protecting.”

“No one is gonna come for Lita. I promise, and she could handle herself even if they did. Now the council is being paranoid.”

“I don’t call the shots, amigo. I go where they tell me. You got what she needed.”

I gestured at my pack as I walked. Carlos and I had been inducted into the Wardens at the same time, and though he was Spanish, we got along pretty well. It was tactless to send a Spaniard to Oaxaca though. They didn’t tolerate outsiders that didn’t want mushrooms, and tolerated the conqueror of their peoples even less.

“And they sent you?”

“Well, you were off and busy. I guess they figured they could send the other brown guy and it’d be fine.”

“Hardly. You’re white.”

“I’m brown passing,” he muttered, then turned. “I gotta stay in the city, but rest assured, your abuela is in good hands.”

I shrugged and kept walking, and he fell back, taking a look around the street. He was a damned good wizard, and one of the best war wizards, but the fact that he was here meant that this was definitely council business. I got to the edge of the city and began my walk into the jungle, up the hillside. It took me about twenty minutes to get to the small house that was nestled into the branches. Mi Abuela has a small, modest house, stone construction, and a bonfire pit out front. The weather today was misty with a slight screen of it wherever you went, but the bonfire was crackling happily. I also knew it acted as a ward. There was a spirit of defense, a fire spirit that resided in the coals in the deepest part of the fire, where it’d stay dry, and if anyone other than me or a White Council member approached, it was geared up to jump them. Instead though, it crackled along as I went by. I knocked twice on the door then let myself in.

Most wizards have labs. They have designated work areas where they practice all things magical. That Dresden fellow has his basement, Ramirez has a garage, I work in my spare bedroom. It’s standard to expect that in most wizards.

But that’s most wizards.

My grandmother had no such space. Her entire house was packed, almost cramped, with magical ingredients. She was a master alchemist, so her ingredients were a bit more than my own, and I had learned from her. Covering the walls, and even hanging from the ceiling were alchemical ingredients of any and all kinds, and I noticed the two garlic braids hanging by the front door. In a basket next to it was three water balloons of holy water, which was a trick she learned from me. The Black Court was a bit more of an issue out here, and my grandmother was prepared for them or any Reds who came knocking and got past the fire guardian. She picked fire for a reason. Vampire flesh might as well have been tinder to flames. They ignited so easily, even the flesh masks. The only one that might pose a threat to her was the White Court, and they weren’t officially neutral, but made it pretty clear that they had no intention to piss off the wizards.

Other than that, the room was set up in a circle with four alcoves. I was in one, one had a modest bed next to a window, also with a garlic braid to each side, one was a kitchen alcove, the same with the garlic there too in a window that looked out over the city, and the final alcove opened up on another circular area. I knew that there were two alcoves there. One was a table where she could work that was set up with permanent burners, beakers, and other things that were required for alchemy. It was her official workspace, and the final alcove led out to her alchemy garden where she grew a lot of her ingredients. In the middle of the first circular room was a stone table where she usually ate her meals, but she had papers and formulas spread over her worktable. The house itself couldn’t have been over 1,000 square feet, but it was her home, and she was happy there. She lived alone after all. It was a tight squeeze when she had a teenage me there before, and the back alcove used to house a bed. The alchemy table was a new edition.

Mi Abuela was sitting on a chair looking at the formulas on the table in frustration. She often looked like that when she worked, and I knew better than to interrupt her, but when I closed the doors, her eyes snapped up, and a huge grin spread across her weather worn face. She stood as well as she could with her limp and grabbed her cane, then hobbled over to me. The woman wasn’t as old as most wizards, but she had been injured in the line of duty with the wardens, so she got a free pass to stay home. She was a legend, and even Luccio treated her with the respect you show to a senior Warden. Sometimes I wonder why she decided to not be the Warden Commander, but I guess it was the injury.

“Mijo!” she said and wrapped me in her arms, and her legs may have been gimpy, but her arms worked fine and she tended a garden. The hug she gave me was tight enough that I had to struggle to breathe, then she kissed me on both cheeks. “I love when you visit.”

“Lita. You’re looking well.”

“You expected me to look like an old bat?”

“I didn’t think that at all,” I lied, and pulled the jar out of my backpack and placed it on the table. She smiled and brushed her fingers across it, then looked at the wax with a question mark look.

“I didn’t know if it’d congeal or not, so I erred to caution.”

“I raised no dummy, but it won’t congeal. Not this blood. What’d you trade to get it?”

I didn’t want to answer that question. “Just a favor. I’m looking into something.”

“Don’t dodge, Mijo.”

“I’m doing a favor for Mab.”

She looked at me and frowned. It wasn’t really one of anger or disappointment, but worry. “What did Mab want?”

“A door showed up in her realm. I need to figure out where it goes and who sent it?”

She ran her fingers along her chin like she had a goatee. “I see. Did this door, by chance, have designs on it that swirled and danced from the eyes?”

“Where else?” I asked, knowing that there was only one way she knew that.

“Edinburgh. The Wardens have it locked down, but we thought it was a Red attack. That’s why I got rush ordered and have a Warden escort. That charming Ramirez fellow."

“Don’t let his bravado fool you. Kid’s a virgin.”

“Kid? Like you could talk, Mr. twenty seven.” She snorted. “So what do you know?”

“That Rashid doesn’t know what it is either, and didn’t know about Edinburgh. He probably would have told me. He suspects Outsiders, but if it is an Outsider, the power that it would take is staggering. He’s gonna take a look when he’s free at the gate.”

She nodded, then took a hot knife, running it along the wax seal and unsealing it. “So what’s your plan?”

“Hit the library and see if I can call up something that has the information. Maybe Chauncy.”

“Be careful with him. He’s still a demon, no matter how knowledgeable he may be. It’d be safer to call up someone like an intellectual spirit.”

“I don’t know any, unless you’re gonna give me your compendium.”

“You’re welcome to it, Mijo, but I don’t have that info either.” She hobbled to the kitchen and picked up some American bills and passed them to me. 750 was the amount of my rent, which I was appreciative of. “I imagine you have things to do.”

“Yeah, I have papers to grade.”

She nodded. “First, you’ll eat," she said, and it wasn’t a question. She cleared away the papers and put on her wood-burning stove, suspending a few dutch ovens over the fire and also putting several tortillas that hadn’t been baked yet into the brick oven to cook. No doubt she was just heating stuff up. Ramirez knocked then let himself in, nodding to me and making sure mi abuela was in one piece.

“Senora Maria,” he said, nodding, and she smiled.

“You’re just in time to eat.” She said, putting in a few more tortillas. “I hope burritos are okay, gentleman.”

“I’m happy to be fed,” Ramirez said, taking a seat across from me.

The rest of the night was spent eating and participating in fellowship. Ramirez had my grandmother roaring to the point I thought she’d have a heart attack. If I had known what was going to follow in the next few days, I would have appreciated it more. It was the only real reprieve I had before the dam broke.

I woke up in my own bed with a small hangover. Mi Abuela had broken out the Tequila around eight o’ clock, and I don’t remember making it back home, but I guess I did, and I had all my effects. I sat up and my vision swam a little. Tequila was the devil’s liquor.

I checked my guest room, and all of my foci were in the right places. I must have put everything back in its place last night. After that, I went and took a quick shower, almost shaving, but decided that the scruffy look was in. I then pulled on some clothes, nice jeans and a button up with cowboy boots (It’s Vegas and I’m Aztec. It’s my prerogative, dammit.) then grabbed my lettercarrier’s bag and made sure all of my teaching gear was needed. After that, I wetted and styled my thick, dark, short hair, then headed out the door. I did have a car, and it was a beater, just like every other wizard I had ever known, but where they drove things like Volkswagens and turn of the century Fords, I drove a Chevy Corvair Spyder circa 1962, but it had been repainted with Candy Paint Red and had antique plates, because other than the paint job, the car was 100 percent original. With the original soft top to it. It wasn’t a sports car, but it makes car guys drool.

I rolled up into my parking space at the UNLV and got out, straightened my shirt, and grabbed my bag, throwing the strap over me, and headed inside to the Science and Engineering building. We were kind of relegated to the shittier classrooms, but our dean did the best he could. I went into my classroom with five minutes to spare, having stopped by Starbucks and grabbing a pumpkin spice latte because I was actually that basic. Most of the students had shown up already, and most of them were on their computers, but I spotted the busty redhead playing with her phone.

“Hey Ginger, can I speak to you for a minute?”

She looked around, then said. “Class hasn’t started yet, so no.”

I snorted. “It’s now or during office hours, and I’m handing out graded papers today, so I suggest now, but it’s your decision," I said, knowing what her choice would be. She rolled her eyes and stood, making her way down to me and I pulled out her paper and put it on the table in front of me. Her hand immediately went to her mouth and she turned bright red. “I liked it. It was funny, however, I think you turned in the wrong one.”

“Yeah, I might’ve,” she said, looking at me.

“I’ll give you til tomorrow to send me the right one. If I don’t get it, we’ll keep this one. Does that work for you?” I asked, all business.

She blushed bright red and took it off the table. “Can I email it to you?”

No, but I couldn’t say that. “Unfortunately, I have to have a hard copy. Class rules. Do you want to run to the library real quick?”

She shook her head. “It should be okay. I’ll drop by your office hours.”

I nodded and she went back to her seat, and I handed out papers. It was a boring class. I decided to clarify on the most numerous mistakes I saw, explaining what the essay was about, and that’s why so many people got low grades. For some of the students, it clicked immediately, and for others, they just looked confused. The holy roller, I think her name was Joan or something, crossed her arms and had a smug smile at her high grade, and her eyes drilled into me. I didn’t like her. Not at all.

When class let out, I went to lunch, taking my time since I had nowhere to be. I ate in the dining hall, minding my own business, then went and did another class, doing the same thing I had in the last class, and got about the same reaction. The ones with high grades were watching with interest, and that was maybe two or three in the class. The rest were zoning out, probably pissed when they figured out I wasn’t running a blow-off class. I’d probably have a few dropped students the next day. Then, after that class, I went to office hours. My office hours were after dark, which bothered me a little. I was twenty minutes in when Ginger came in with a sheaf of papers and put them in front of me.  
“Good evening. If you want to wait a few minutes, I can read over this and grade it.” I said, and she seemed to think it over, then sat down.

“You don’t have a computer?” She asked.

“Waste of resources. I work better analog.” I said reading over the paper. It hit on all the same points, getting the point across, and I was happy to give it a hundred percent. I looked up and caught her eyes, and looked away before the soulgaze began, and went to speak, when I heard someone at the door. I looked up to see the holy roller, staring at me.

“Miss Lucard, I’m with another student right now. I need you to wait outside,” I said sternly, and she snorted.

“I know what you are, Wizard, and it’s time to die.”


	7. The Student

I'd like to say I did something or said something cool, but I didn’t, because I may have been a mortal that could tap into the Fires of Creation and pull off incredible feats, but I was still mortal, and an unprepared wizard was as useful as a regular mortal. Instead, I stared at her slack jawed as she pulled out a silver dagger that gleamed in the light. Either that or it glowed. I moved, but Joan was faster, moving to kill me before I stood. In pure luck, my chair fell backwards, and I was able to control my roll. Surprise or not, Joan was tiny, and I was a hundred and seventy pounds of wizard that went to the gym. I bowled her over in my roll, and we ended up a sprawl of limbs. She slashed at me, and I was able to get free of her, barely. I then thrust out my hand, palm first, like I was pushing her, and snarled “Chikaktli! Chikaktli y chinga tu madre!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, and Joan went sliding away on her ass across the floor and slammed into the wall with a whump. Ginger was standing now, staring at me like a slack jawed idiot, like I had at Joan.

“Get the fuck out!” I shouted at her, and struggled to my feet, pulling the little obsidian dagger I had out of my pocket and out of its sheath. GInger looked between us, but I didn’t have time to warn her again. Joan stood and I stabbed the knife into my palm. The wound would have been horrible had I not been using magic, and it would heal after I was done. Instead, I moved my hand in a circle, spraying blood that floated in the air, then pushed my hand forward, and shouted “Tetsonuia!”

The blood surged forward, forming a solid red rope that actually kind of looked like a red vine or twizzler, wrapping itself around Joan’s legs in the middle of her charge, and she fell to the ground, her legs bound. I took the opportunity to get into my desk, then ran forward. Her nasty little knife dug into the blood rope and broke the enchantment immediately, but I had expected that. That’s why I nabbed the solid steel handcuffs from my desk. I jumped on her. She may have been fast, but I was damn near a hundred pounds heavier and wrestled her arms behind her back in a policeman’s lock, making her drop the knife, then cuffed her. With my free hand, I shouted “Chikaktli!” Again, and the door to the office slammed closed. At some point, Ginger had vacated the office. Probably after I stabbed my hand.

“Release me, wizard! Release me and face penance for your sins!” Joan shouted, and I just hoped that Ginger would call the police.

“Fuck Joan, you almost got me,” I said, smug now that I had her apprehended. “What the hell? Most religious orgs are allies of the Wizards.”

“The Knights Templar are friends to no one, Wizard! You will be destroyed!”

Well, that was all the explanation I needed. She was a Templar. She was a blind zealot. The Wizards had dealt with them before. I scooped down and picked up the dagger.

“I guess that explains the butterknife. What’s wrong? They run out of swords?”

“I don’t need a sword, Wizard. I am a knife in the dark!” She snarled, struggling against the handcuffs. I wasn’t nice. I had ratcheted them tight on her hands. They were gonna cut in if she kept on.

“If I were you, I would have tried to get me alone, probably with seduction, then killed me when I was naked and alone.”

“Luck. Luck made sure that chair toppled when it did.”

I glanced over and saw small droplets of ectoplasm. I figured it had less to do with luck than Joan thought, and I had a thought of my own.

“You’re right, but I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.” I took the knife by the handle like I was holding a dead bug and dropped it onto my desk. It was sharp, and scored the wood as it clattered down. It was a simple thing, looking like a normal knife, but if you turned it upside down, it looked like a cross, and there was a blood red iron cross in the pommel, looking to be made of some kind of stone. The swords had ruby pommels, but my guess was it was the red parts of bloodstone. I heard sirens and absently put my dagger back into my pocket. The cut had healed over completely, which was how it worked when I worked blood magic. There was some soaking on the floor where she dispelled my enchantment. I’d need to get a janitor to clean it.

“Someone saw you attack me. I plan to press charges, and the police are on the way.”

“My order will post bail and I’ll be reassigned. We know you now, wizard.”

I shrugged, and considered wiping her mind, but that was against the laws of magic. Number three, if I recall. No, they’d know who I was, but the Templars tended to make an assassination attempt three times. If I survived the next two, they’d consider it God’s Will that I survived, whether that was the case or not, and leave me be, but that meant I had to be prepared for two more attempts on my life, and that was two attempts too many. I had also considered storming the Temple of Solomon, but decided against that too. Even though I’d take several Templars with me, their Seraphim would make short work of me. I snorted at that too. Seraphim against the Seraphim. Judging just by Joan’s age. She was a Nephilim, a recruit. An apprentice. I could probably expect an angel or Archangel next, and if they thought I was a real nuisance, I could expect a Cherubim. If they sent a Seraphim after me, I was in big trouble. This was what was left of the inquisition, and they took their jobs seriously.

The police came in to see me with my arms folded, brooding. They had guns out, but holstered them. Wizards do brooding well. They’re known for it, and I was no different. They carted off her and her dagger, I gave a statement, was given back my handcuffs, and was free to go, so I went straight home, or tried. There was a red-haired girl leaning on the hood of my car when I got to the parking lot. I didn’t want to have this talk, but the girl had watched a fellow student lunge at me with a knife. She probably deserved an explanation.

“Get in,” I said grumpily as I walked toward the car and unlocked the passenger seat, then walked around to the driver’s seat. When I got close, I realized that her mascara had run. She had been crying. That was my reaction after I was attacked the first time too. When I realized magic was real for the first time. “You hungry? I want Freddy’s.”

She blinked at me, like she had expected something else, but stared at the car suspiciously. I jammed the key into the ignition and turned it over, only to have it sputter and die. I sighed and focused, getting my thoughts together and calming myself down, and she noticed. Then I did it again, and the engine coughed, then sputtered to life. “You coming? I’m buying.”

“I just want answers,” she said.

“And I want a steak sandwich. We can both have what we want. It’s cold. Get in the car or go home. Those are the options.”

She got in the car without getting asked a third time. It was like a compulsion, I swear.

We got to Freddy's and I got out and went in, telling her to lock the door as I did. A guy was staring at my car as we went in, but I brushed past him. If I had a nickel. I walked up to the line and waited my turn, and she was next to me. She looked unsure, and to be fair, I would have been too. We may have been around the same age, but I was her instructor, and this was dancing a professional line. I really didn’t want to cross the line, but at the same time, I did. I chalked that up to after action hormones.

I ordered a triple burger, with double fries, and a chocolate milkshake.

What? I was hungry.

When we sat down, I opened my mouth to say something, then decided it was better for her to ask and not reveal anything, so instead, I shoved some fries in my mouth.

“Classy. This is how you impress all the women you go out with?”

“This isn’t a date. You’re my student,” I said, then forced a burp. I had learned that trick to annoy my gran.

“Savage.”

“Offensive. I’m Native.” I said, taking a swig from my shake.

She didn’t say anything, but the expression in her eyes told a lot. She was scared, and she was doing anything to not think about what happened, and it wasn’t working. The least I could do was give a little. “Are you sure you don’t want food? I’m happy to pay for it. I just got paid.”

She nodded, but her stomach betrayed her, letting out a furious growl, and she frowned even deeper and looked at her stomach, if she could even see it past her tits. Beacon of feminism, like I said. “No one asked you,” she said grumpily.

“At least someone here is honest. What do you want?”

I managed to coax a five piece tender with fries and a pepsi out of her, then went to order and gave her some space to process. Coming to terms with it was never easy, and most people had to see it to believe it. Unfortunately, seeing it first hand was easy to rationalize away, but she didn’t rationalize it. She knew what she saw, and I saw that part of her was terrified, but another part of her was intrigued. It was the intrigue that worried me, and I noted something else. Something that I wasn’t sure I liked.

I got her food and came back to a small circle on the table in salt, and there was a napkin in the center. When she knew she had my attention, she pressed her hands gently against the table, and I felt it. She surged her will into the circle, but it was sloppy, and there was a lot of overspill. The napkin ignited into flames. She didn’t look as exhausted as I expected her to. Someone practiced at home.

“I guess I’m just relieved. I figured there was more of us, but I didn’t think it’d be you. The car makes sense.”

“So does the Razr.” I set the basket in front of her then settled across from her. Some of my fries were missing, and I eyed her suspiciously. She said nothing, a small catlike smile on her face. I didn’t dignify the blatant theft with a response. “So, what are you capable of?”

“Just that. Small uncontrolled fires. I set my first boyfriend’s underwear on fire when we… Let’s just say I don’t have good luck with men.”

“Then you need to be clued in. At least on the Laws of Magic.”

“What?”

I clued her in on the White Council, the Laws of Magic, and the Warden’s. The White Council was the governing body of mortal practitioners, and all of their laws had to do with mortals. Second was the laws that the White Council laid down, and the Wardens were the enforcers of those laws, neglecting to mention that I was one, and that it was my job to watch over Las Vegas as the only Warden in town.

“Gross. ACAB.”

“I’d agree with you, but in this instance, a lot of Wardens are Wardens because there is a war on, and they were bribed, threatened or coerced to take on the grey cloak. They’re unwilling servants at best, and after the war is over, a lot of them are going to hang up the cloaks, but the war has hit home for a lot of people.”

“War?”

“Not relevant right now. What’s relevant is that I need to see the full extent of your abilities, to decide if you’re a minor talent, or a full blown wizard, and if you’re a wizard, I need to get you to the council immediately.”

“Hold on, I didn’t sign up to be part of any council.”

“Well, you aren’t required to sign up, but they are still gonna kill you if you break the laws, and if you sign up, you get some measure of protection.” I finished my burger. “Look, tell you what, I’ll write up a primer of things you need to know, then give it to you, and after that, you can decide what you want to do.

She frowned, then nodded, and we finished our meal in silence, and I took her home in silence, and honestly, I was grateful for the silence.


	8. Edinburgh

I got in to a ringing phone and didn’t even put down my bag, putting it to my ear.

“Espinoza.”

“Good, I got the right number. These international numbers are tricky,” said a young sounding woman on the other end. Warden Luccio, or should I say, Warden Commander Luccio. My boss. Not just my regional commander, but the commander of all the Wardens.

To be fair there were only seventy five or so of us.

“Anastasia. Nice to hear from you. How are things?”

“Well, but we have no time for pleasantries. I got some intel that you're looking into these Shivering Doors?”

Everyone knew about my business, and that didn’t make me happy. “As a favor to Mab, and I haven’t had time to do any research cause everyone needs something.”

“Now’s a great time. How fast can you get to Edinburgh?”

I sighed, already sleepy, and glanced at the clock. Truthfully, a few hours if I crossed through Faerie, but I needed to sleep at some point. I told her as much.

“Sorry, we need you here now. One of those doors has appeared here.”

I decided not to tell her that I knew that. “I guess Ramirez told you what I was up to?”

“Carlos? No. I have him watching Estrella. This came down from the Gatekeeper.”

I grumbled something under my breath that Luccio definitely did not need to hear. Honestly, he was doing his job, and probably didn’t know that I knew about the one in Edinburgh.

“I guess I’ll be in Edinburgh soon then,” I said, and that was that, and how I ended up in Edinburgh staring at the door. This one had taken form in a storage closet that was rarely used, and I was glaring at it like that might help me understand it. I made sure to bring all my foci just in case, including the grey cloak, and had dressed like normal. Jeans, tee, and it made the cloak look almost comical with the pink Bad Bunny Tee. I leaned back, tapping the table I was sitting in with my fingers, trying to figure out where to go from here. The door to the storage room was under guard by Morgan and Thorsten, and that left me in the room alone. Luccio wanted a full report, but I didn’t know what to tell her. I flicked an iron nail at it, and nothing happened, so that meant it wasn’t from Faerie, and that’s all I had. I hesitated to hit it with magic, but I needed to start experimentation. I stood and took a step back, then pointed a finger and said “Tletl.”

It was a lot different than my normal evocations. I rivaled Morgan in my evocations. Normally my bolts of fire were as big around as my thumb and burned white from the heat, even though it wasn’t one of the elements I was good at. This fire flickered over the stone door and… It was like the door soaked it up. It was the strangest thing. The fire flowed out, then coalesced into a single point right about in the center, and I barely had a chance. I threw my hand up and shouted “Chimalli!” and I felt that familiar cobweb feeling cascade down around me like a silk cocoon, and that was a good thing because the door launched the fire back at me in a lance of white hot fire. I could feel the heat even through my shield. Either I was stronger than I thought I was, or the door was deflecting back with triple power. I also noted the room was on fire.

“Fire! Big Fire!” I shouted at the wardens at the door, and one of them, Morgan of course, came in carrying a fire extinguisher like a weapon. He unloaded the chemical all over the room, and I got hosed as well. When he was finished, and where he was holding the fire extinguisher, down low in front of him, I cringed, and I hated myself a little, mostly because it was all over me too. I stood there with my eyes squeezed tight and mouth in a firm line. I liked Morgan well enough, but not like that.

“What happened?” Snapped Luccio, entering the room. She didn’t look like the Warden Commander of the White Council. She had fucking dimples and bouncy brown hair. That was because of a body changer, but that’s another story for another time. What was important is that she had the skills of a century old woman in the body of a college aged woman, and I was into that. I think she was into that too, but we hadn’t discussed it. I wondered what it was like to go from menopause and back again. That was probably some whiplash.

“Well, the door can use magic.”

She looked at Morgan, and he set the fire extinguisher to the side and went back to stand by the door. I clapped my hands and the chemical in the room all coalesced into a ball about the size of my fist, and I made a waving gesture and it flew back into the extinguisher. See, I can do cool stuff without screaming.

“More specifically, I cast a small fire spell on it to see what happened, and it shot it back at triple the intensity. I got my shield up in time, but it spilled over the room.” I pointed at the chair and table that were now charred. The fire didn’t have any time to grow, but it still singed a few things.

“And what does that tell you?”

“It’s not Outsider. It’s a fake.”

She raised an eyebrow, definitely asking me to explain. I sighed. “Rashi… The Gatekeeper told me that magic, particularly magic from wizards, is derived from life and matter, and it’s anathema to the inherent antimatter of the Outsiders. I guess the patterns and order don’t mix well with the chaos of the Outside. Point is, if it was Outsider, and I hit it with magic, it wouldn’t have launched magic back at me. It likely would have exploded and dissipated. Someone put reflection spells on the doors."

She nodded. “Reds?”

“One track mind?”

“We’re at war, Seraphim.”

“I know that, Anastasia,” I bit back. “The Reds wouldn’t have put doors in both of the Queens courts either. They’re trouble, but not that bad. Honestly, I’d say it’s another wizard.”

She frowned. “And all that from a fire spell.”

“More than that. Just a lot of observations.” I sat back in the chair, looking at the door. It was a good imitation, but it was still just an imitation.

She was eyeing me, and it looked like she wanted to say something, but thought better of it. “Let me know what else you find out, Warden Espinoza,” she said very formally, then turned and walked out, and I snorted. We couldn’t keep up this dance forever, but lives were at stake, so I’d let it go for now, and turned back to the door. I didn’t really know what else to do, so I stood, took out a steel file that I kept around for occasions like this, and went to scrape a bit of the door off. I collected the shavings in an orange pill bottle with the label removed, then turned and left the room. There was nothing else I could do, and the door wasn’t going anywhere. I damn near ran into some fool wearing a duster like it was 1874.

“Watch where you’re going Dresden,” I snapped, not bothering to even look. I knew who it was. Who else walks around like that?

“A fine day at headquarters,” he said, more to himself than anything, and Morgan grunted as he went by. I figured I’d let Donald handle it. He and Dresden were well acquainted.

I opened the way outside my apartment and went to open the door, but immediately recoiled in disgust.

The problem with Templars wasn’t really that they were dangerous. If you were prepared for them, they didn’t really register as a threat. It was more that they were annoying, and had no concept of collateral. In this case, they spray-painted a big red iron cross on my door. I grumbled, noting I was gonna have to call maintenance, but at least my rent was paid. I unlocked the door and went inside, then locked it behind me and ran my hand down the metal, setting the wards in place. I then went into the spare bedroom and had a boring day. Mostly, it consisted of writing a primer on magical governance, like I said I’d do. It wasn’t all that exciting, and then I went to bed. I don’t have a lot of fun. I was almost asleep when I got a phone call.

I grumbled but went into the living room and answered it.

“Espinoza.”

“Seraphim. You got a minute?” Asked my other boss. Eugenio Estevez, the Dean of the Occult Sciences Department.

“I was wondering when you’d call.”

“Yeah, it took me a minute. Dinner? I’ll buy.”

I looked at the clock. It was a little late for dinner, but what the hell. It was better than a more formal meeting in his office.

“I can meet you in thirty.”

“Great. Crusader’s. I’ll meet you there,” he said and hung up. Crusader’s was owned by a friend of his, and it was the only place we ever went. He sampled the booze, I ate a burger, and we got a lot done. I sighed, got clothes on again, and went out to meet my boss and explain why one of my students lunged at me with a knife. I noted the irony in the name of the pub. This would be even more fun than Mab. Estevez paid me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got it in before the day was over, my time, so there!
> 
> I hope y'all are enjoying the ride so far, and this is where I make the obligatory statement. If you're enjoying it, slam that Kudos button. I may or may not finish it, depending on my drive and other projects, and if I have a good number of Kudos, it's motivation to finish it for the fans.
> 
> Also, if we have other fandoms in common, read my other works. I'm having an edit done on a HUGE Star Wars fic, and it's the rewrite I've been hyping for a year now. It's finished. It just needs edits before I can post it, and I have an editor, and they are human, and it's big.
> 
> That's it! Thanks for sticking with it. Seraphim is more fun than I thought he'd be, and obvs, we'll see more of Ginger and Ramirez.
> 
> Stay chill, and I'll see y'all tomorrow!


	9. Knights and Mentors

“So, you know why we’re here.” Estevez said, ordering a blueberry ale. He’d hit Crusader Steel before we left. It was his favorite, and had the highest alcohol content of all the beers they had, imported, domestic, craft, draft, or otherwise. Estevez himself looked like Javier Bardem, and he had a little stubble, which was out of character. I probably bogged him down in paperwork. I rubbed at my own scruff unconsciously. We weren’t exactly opposites, but I definitely looked a lot younger and more Mexican, where he was older and Spanish. He was dressed in a dark blue suit with a shimmering silver tie, and I just threw back on my Bad Bunny Tee and jeans. I’m the epitome of class.

“What happened?”

I sighed and recounted the events, but left Ginger out of it. She didn’t need the attention.

“Any idea how the Templars found out you were a wizard?”

“I don’t know, sir. They have old abilities from the days of seeing if women floated or sank according to the physics of witches. It’s likely they used an old scrying ritual, or Ms. Lucard was just perceptive enough to realize that my knowledge base was more than theory.”

He grunted, or well, Estevez didn’t grunt. Not ever. He’d never be so undignified, but he made some kind of noise.

“Police are poking around, asking if you provoked her. I was told there was a witness.”

“There was, but she was a bystander only.”

“Seraphim, I need to know.”

“She’s unrelated and doesn’t need a probe up her ass.”

“And she was in your office because?”

“I was fucking her, obviously.”

He picked up on the sarcasm, but his face remained displeased.

“It was my office hours, Genie. Fuck, you think I was up to something?”

“You’re being dodgy, and that puts my paranoia on edge. Point is, this girl is a witness, and she hasn’t come forward, and I need her to for the police to back off. Why are you protecting her?”

Cause she was like me. Because if it came out that she was involved in the assault of a Council Member and Warden, the White Council would haul her in under suspicion of being a Red Thrall, and that was usually fatal. I couldn’t tell him that though. He already knew I was a wizard, and that was enough to set the council on edge, but I had to pay the bills somehow, and needed my boss to know why I couldn’t use a computer.

“I’ll talk to her, but make no promises, and her identity needs to remain a secret between us and the cop she talks to. There are other people more interested in this than you.” I said, remembering the stern talking to I got when I got to Edinburgh. Anastasia meant well, but she was a little more fiery than desired, sometimes.

He sighed. “I need a Crusader. You want one?”

Nah. I need to get home and get some sleep.” I said, standing. “Thanks for the burger. Take care.”

He waved me away, and I stood and stepped outside, running into a particular redhead. She was dressed in the same clothes as before, which was a tanktop with a cardigan and jeans, but her tanktop and cardigan were soaked in blood on her right side, where she was holding her side, and her hair was matted with blood on the opposite side. She looked at me, and I thought she might faint.

“Thank god.” She said and sagged into my arms. I caught her, immediately scanning the area. I couldn’t drag her into the pub. That’d cause more questions than answers, and I didn’t want to answer them right now, so I grabbed her and helped her to my car.

We made it to my car unmolested, but as I was helping her in, I heard a whistling, then something wire thin bit into my throat. I fell backwards, but whatever it was, and it felt like a wire, had wrapped around it. I was on my back, but was looking at a woman standing over me. She wasn’t dressed like I thought a Templar would. They were rarely subtle. That’s not to say that she was subtle, however. Instead of plate mail, she was wearing a white leather pants and a white leather halter top that showed off a gratuitous amount of cleavage and was probably a little smaller than it needed to be. If it was cloth and not leather, I doubted it’d be legal. The only reason I really knew she was a Templar was the red iron cross on the left breast, where the heart would be.

Otherwise, she had white hair that she pulled up in a ponytail, and I was certain she had this whole succubus schtick. Little did she know, I cared very little for it.

“And as always, if you harry the servitor, it will lead you back to it’s master, and my prey. You must be Seraphim.”

“And you are?”

She flashed a smile. It was pretty. If she had just walked up to me, I probably would have invited her back home with me. “I am Margot the Huntress, Archangel of the Templar Order.

That explained a lot. She wasn’t a Nephilim like Joan had been. She was an Archangel. A veteran. In the Templars, you’re A Nephilim until you make your first kill and ‘ascend’ to the rank of angel. After a score of kills, you become an Archangel. I was not in a good place.

“Seems kind of blasphemous to consider yourself a member of the Angelic Host. Not just that, but one of the leaders? Oh, and the way you’re dressed, modesty is a virtue.”

“Wizard, if you were less of a smart ass, I might have made your last moments enjoyable. I’ve been known to play with my targets.”

“Creepy. Let’s not go down the nympho holy warrior road. It’s been a long day.” I said, getting to my feet, but she tugged on the damn wire, using it like a leash. I frowned, but a finger to it, and said “Tletl.” and I burned right through it. She frowned. How many kills had she made that knew magic.

“Your tricks won’t save you.” She said and reached slowly behind her back, like she thought I wouldn’t notice. I reached into my pocket and drew my own blade, and hers arced out of her hand towards me. Luckily, I was a master of Earth magic, and aside from Spirit or Blood, it was my Forte.

“Etiktitsli!” I shouted, and the knife fell to the ground as I turned up the magnetism. In fact, she seemed to have trouble moving, which I had counted on. There were metal plates under all the leather.

“I hate to run after you’ve been so accommodating, but I have an injured girl in the car, and you seem to be the kind of person that is great at ambushes but terrible at fair fights, so run along. We’ll meet again.” I said, then flicked my hand, changing the direction of the magnetism, and she went flying and slammed against a wall, spread eagle. I enjoyed the view for a moment, because why not, then dropped the spell, and she fell to the ground, growled under her breath, then ran off, like I had suspected her to. I then got in my car. Hospitals were dangerous, and I needed to figure out how Ginger found me.


	10. Apprentice

I reasoned that we couldn’t go to the hospital. This Margot may have been over the top, but she didn’t get her rank through being stupid, and she was probably watching the hospitals. I didn’t know where Ginger lived, and I didn’t have a doctor that I could take her to under the table, so that really only left my apartment. Margot no doubt knew where it was, based on the graffiti, but I at least could ward it. She wouldn’t be dumb enough to push against a wizard’s wards. That was like playing chicken with a modern tank, and probably had similar squishy results. By the time I had reasoned that, we were already there. I got out and went to her side, but she was unconscious, and I desperately hoped she didn’t have a concussion.

I took a quick look around to make sure I didn’t have an audience, because me carrying a bloody and unconscious woman up the stairs to my apartment would definitely include a police visit, and I couldn’t just tell them that the Templar Order attacked her to draw me out because they thought I was a servant of Satan.

There was no one out, so I scooped her up in my arms. Ginger wasn’t a very big girl, and it took little effort to carry her up the stairs. Juggling her to unlock the door was another challenge altogether. I managed it, got in, shut the door, locked it, then set up the wards with a mental flex. I felt them snap into place. The only place safer was probably a Warden safe room or Edinburgh itself. I hesitated with what to do with her. I needed to figure out the extent of her injuries, and that meant I needed a good surface, so I took her into the lab and set her on one of the folding tables.

It felt like an autopsy, and I pushed the thought away, grabbing one of mi abuela’s medical compendiums from the wall. I wasn’t a medical student, but I didn’t need to be. First was to get off the cardigan, and I felt awful again. She was my student, and this was a thousand times unethical. The cardigan had a big hole in it, and the edges around it were pretty even and not ragged. My guess was a knife. She shanked Ginger, the bitch. Taking a closer look at the wound confirmed it. I had to lift her tank top a little to see, then got into the textbook to figure out if there was an organ there. In the end, nothing major, and Margot probably knew that. Templars weren’t big on murdering normies. After the church and the inquisition came under fire during the renaissance for the entire affair, they got a lot more selective and careful about who they destroyed.

I then looked at her head, feeling around. It felt more like she had been hit than anything. There was blood, but it wasn’t coming from her head. I can only assume that at some point she wiped her hair away with a bloody hand. It was enough to be scary, but she was fine, though she did have a nice lump on her head. The wound to her side was gonna need stitches, so I turned to that section and pulled on some gloves. The Wardens teach basic field medicine, and Abuela kept extensive notes. I pulled out my havoc bag, finding the suture kit in question, and broke it open, getting to work. It’s a horrible feeling to work on someone like this, but I was able to stitch the wound back closed. She still needed to see a doctor, but it was the best I could do, and I didn’t need the doctor asking me why I brought in a knife wound victim. I may be pretty, but this was still Vegas, and anything was possible.

After that, I grabbed a bowl of warm water and wiped off the blood where it was safe to do so. I felt like I should have taken her bloody shirt off, but we were skirting ethics as it was, so I left it on, wrapped a towel around her to make sure the blood didn’t get everywhere, then put her in my bed. I could have left her on the couch, but she needed to be somewhere comfortable, and my couch was lumpy and second hand, and would swallow you if you weren’t careful. Instead, I dropped her on my bed, pulled up the blankets, then went into my kitchen and put on the teapot. Sure, Pepsi would get the job done, but something about the movements of making tea was calming. My hands were starting to shake now that the hard part was done. I was like that. Great in a crisis, terrible afterwards. I just needed a minute to come down, so I made tea, and turned on the only luxury electronic I allowed myself. I had a nice stereo system all the way across the room, and used the remote to turn it on. I had Spotify queued up on it, and my Pokemon playlist drifted out. I tried to change it, but it wasn’t changing, probably because I fried the remote… again. Stress, man.

I took a deep breath and focused, collecting my thoughts. I got out the honey and sugar, and when the whistle on the kettle went off, I poured it into my nice porcelain teapot. It was white with a gold Quetzalcoatl writhing around the front. I had an aesthetic. I poured in water, placed the teabags, and let it steep. It was chamomile, for the nerves, and I pulled out the tea bags after about ten minutes, then upturned a jar of honey that my gran had to send me. They didn’t have apiaries in the desert, or at least, not many, and it was prohibitively expensive in the stores. I dumped in a good amount, then stirred it in the hot water. I then spooned in a couple spoons of sugar, then tasted. It was great, just like I liked it. I hoped Ginger would like it, and went in with plans of working a spell. I didn’t have to. She was up in the bedroom, back to me, looking like she wanted to stretch, but that’d pop the stitches. She had also taken off the tank top, and even though she had a bra on, it felt improper, so I tried to exit quietly, pulling the door to.

She poked her head out and around a few minutes later. My apartment had a huge front room with a fireplace, the kitchen next to it with a bar, but no dividing wall, and then a tiny alcove that held three doors. One to each bedroom and one to the bathroom. She glanced at me and relaxed a little, then came into the room. She had the towel wrapped around her. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare shirt, would you, professor?” She asked, and I hated the way she asked it. It was like she’d asked that before, and in less severe circumstances. I nodded and went past her, getting into my dresser, and pulling out a My Chemical Romance Tee. I passed it to her and took her tank top over to the fireplace and threw it in. She didn’t seem to care about her state of undress, and when it looked like I wasn’t paying attention, she just dropped the towel and pulled on the shirt, showing off her black lace bra while she did. I decided to pretend like I didn’t notice.

I put in some wood and muttered “Tletl.” and there was a nice happy crackling fire, and the shirt was burning.

“Why’d you burn my shirt?”

“It was covered in a lot of your blood. That’s a good way to get a spell used against you. Burning it and reducing it to ash makes it unusable.” I stood and went over to the kitchen, gestured at the bar, and poured her a cup of tea. It was even on a saucer.

“So, how’d you find me?”

She frowned. “I remember this cunt hitting me over the head with a bat, then surgically stabbing me, and she left. I didn’t know what else to do, so I did some thaumaturgy. I swiped a hair from your desk the other day, in case I needed to find you, and used it to home in.”

“Don’t ever take anything like that again. It’s considered not only an insult, but a huge threat,” I said with a snarl, then composed myself. She didn’t know that. “She was using you to find me, as well. If I hadn’t been prepared, we both could have died.” I was grumpier than I meant to be, but I hadn’t slept in twenty four hours, so I could be grumpy.  
She didn’t say anything, and I went over to my letter carrier bag and pulled out the sheaf of papers I had written out for her, and put them on the table. “Sorry, it’s not digital. Computers.”

The rival theme for Gold and Silver, but in all electric guitars started blaring from my speakers, and I tried to change it, but it wasn’t gonna happen, so we were stuck with it. She didn’t seem to mind, and started reading the papers. I saw her face go a little slack, and she took a sip of the tea. She was gonna read it all right there, and I knew what she was doing. Absorbing. She was being a sponge. I had a few tricks I could probably teach her, but judging by the fact that she could still use a cell phone and computer, I doubted that she was anything more powerful than a hedge practitioner. She was a minor talent. She probably had really good control of fire, and could do a few things in the thaumaturgy school, but she wasn’t a full blown wizard.

Believe it or not, Wizardry was pretty well documented. To qualify as a Wizard, you had to have aptitude in three elements of magic. Those often changed according to wizard, but the globally recognized ones were Earth, Fire, Water, Wind, and Spirit. Then, you had to be adept in two schools of thaumaturgic magic. Those were Summoning and Binding, Conjuration, Divination, Veils, Wards, and Crafting, be it potions or foci.

On the other hand, to be considered a minor talent and therefore auxiliary of the White Council, you just needed one element and one school of thaumaturgy, and she had fire and divination, for sure.

That was all covered in what I had written, and I let her read. When she got to the Laws of Magic, she read them, then read them again, then read them a third time, and I felt a lot better about all of this. She finished about an hour later, putting the papers down.

“I have questions.”

“You’re not my apprentice,” I said. “I don’t have time for a student. I only wrote this so a warden wouldn’t come execute you for breaking one of the laws of magic.”

She watched me carefully, like she was chewing over her words. “You’re a Warden, aren’t you. You’re the Warden of Las Vegas.”

“No, that’d be Ramirez, who is the Regional Commander of the Southwest. I’m a Warden, not THE Warden.”

“No, you’re the only one in the area. I can tell, just by the way you’re acting. You took pains to not let me know.”

“Maybe I’m just not happy I gotta be a cop. Did that cross your mind?”

“Man, you need to go take a nap. Relax. If you don’t want to answer my questions, that’s fine. I’ll find someone who will,” she said and turned in the chair.

“You can’t leave.”

“I don’t see any reason to stick around,” she responded, making her way to the door.

“No, I mean my wards are up, and will be until dawn. You physically can’t leave.”

“Oh. Then I guess you have no choice but to suffer my presence and answer my questions.”

I grumbled, but she was right. I was a captive audience.

“So, what are your elements? You classify as a Wizard, right?”

I snorted. “I’m one of the best evocator’s in the world, and I’m not just saying that. Mi abuela was a warden back during the ghoul wars and had centuries of practice, and she taught me everything she knew about it. I have the skills of a centuries old wizard and am only twenty seven. It’s the main reason I was voluntold to be a warden.”

“Okay, but I’ve seen you kick ass. That blood thing in your office was freaky, but cool. What element is that?”

“Not one you can learn. My talents lie in Earth, Spirit, and my own element of Blood, drawn from Aztec practices. Another one taught to me by Abuela.”

She nodded, still absorbing. “And what’s your Thaumaturgy schools?”

“Wards and Crafting. I specialize in foci. Magic Items. I’m an enchanter, and have made some enchanted items to sell to other wizards when I needed some extra cash.”

“I guess I’m only considered a Minor Talent?”

“Yes, but that’s still useful in the hands of someone creative. You could’ve slapped Margot with a flaming hand. That would have made her step back a little.”

“Margot?”

“Oh right, you were already unconscious. The Titty Knight.”

She snorted in her tea and some of it came out of her nose. “Right, her. Is that her class?”

“Yeah, it’s a prestige class for fighter. It’s like if you mix fighter and bard.”

“I thought they called those Skalds.”

“Well, yes, but she’s not Nordic, so it’s Titty Knight. Lots of charisma with the skills of a fighter.”

Ginger was actually laughing, which was better than unconscious in my passenger seat or my bed.

“Okay, so these people are gunning for me. You should probably tell me about these Templars.”

I sighed and gestured at the couch, then sat in it, withdrawing yes, an actual pipe. I tamped in some cherry and vanilla tobacco and lit it with a few puffs, taking a pull. I used to smoke cigarettes. This was safer and smelled better. She didn’t seem to mind, inhaling some of the smoke. She must have liked the smell.

“According to the White Council, they’re too small to be considered a real threat, so we haven’t done anything about it. That means that like this, we gotta swat one or two when they show up. They’re the last militant order of the Inquisition, and they go after all supernaturals. I’m not just talking vampires and werewolves. They don’t much like Wizards, witches, or faeries either. Technically, they are at war with every member race of the Unseelie Accords.”

“You mentioned the accords in this. What is that, can I get a copy, and who are the members?”

I sighed. “The list is long, but the important ones are the White Council, the Vampire Courts, and the Faerie Courts. If you’re dealing with another member of the Accords, you’re out of your element. They include things like Dragons, Old Gods, and the like.”

She blinked, then nodded. “So why hasn’t someone wiped out the Templars already?”

“Honestly, cause all they are is annoying. If one catches you by surprise, they can do a number, but they haven’t actually succeeded in the assassination of a White Council wizard in a few hundred years. Mostly they pick off stragglers and people that went rogue from their orgs, and most people are alright with that. It saves on a cleaning bill.”

“Okay, so who are we dealing with? There are clear levels of experience.”

I sighed and pinched my nose. I was starting to get woozy from lack of sleep, and went to make some coffee. “Well, Joan was a Nephilim. They’re lowest rank. Apprentices. Then from there, in ascending order, you have an Angel, someone who has actually taken a supernatural life, an Archangel, that has taken a score, a Cherubim, which has taken a hundred, and a Seraphim, which there are only six of, and you never want to run across. They look like old men, but their sashes are red, and died in the blood of the vanquished. Like, those guys cause us some concern, but there are only six, so it’s not a big deal.”

“And what is Margot?”

“Archangel. She’s tough, but not invincible. I caught her by surprise. Also, they have some rules, and the one that is important is that they only try to assassinate someone three times. This is according to Inquisitor Thomas. An Inquisitor is like the pope to them. Anyway, if you fail three times, then that mark is clearly protected by God, and they are no longer to be harassed by the order. There was Joan, then Margot. I have one more attempted attack, and it’s gonna be nasty. I advise you to not be around when it happens. They try to avoid collateral, but some of their more heavy hitters are sloppy.”

I felt something. A pressure on my wards. Someone… or something was approaching my door. I stood and went over to it immediately. Harry Dresden was an ass, but he was right about one thing, and that was to keep a gun in the dresser by the door. I drew an older Colt 1911. The design hadn’t changed since then, so it wasn’t likely to get jumpy on me. Even guns can jam because of magic. I looked out of the peephole about the time the static warning went out. It was little more than a zap, but it still smarted.

I was rewarded with a string of Spanish that I won’t translate, then a rap on the door. “Hey Espinoza, it’s Los! Let me in.”

I sighed and spoke. “I can’t. My wards are up. You try that door, it’s gonna be a gravitational landmine.”

He was silent for a moment. “How bad?”

I scrunched up my face. He was willing to risk my wards? I looked at Ginger, who was watching from the couch with interest.

“Ramirez, it’s a gravitational ward. You won’t be able to move.”

“Well, it can’t kill me. I’m obligated as your boss to cut through it if it can. Look, I can’t talk outside. How bad is it, can I dispel it?”

I sputtered out an exhale. “Hold on, let me try a dispelling,” I said, more angry than anything. I was gonna have to ward this again, and that was a pain in the ass. I focused my will, which drew out a squeak from my stereo. Ginger got up and turned it off, which made me thankful. I made a warding sign with my hands and said “Tlapoloa!” In a commanding voice, and I let out my will. I felt it rush out towards the ward and touch the threads, and I felt it slowly unraveling them. Honestly, Ramirez could have cut through the ward with his sword, but that was hella rude, and it might have set it off. Instead, I painstakingly ripped it down, then opened the door, where Carlos Ramirez was standing, looking disheveled, which was not his usual. He went to say something, and he saw Ginger standing in my shirt with her arms folded and he immediately quit talking.

I glanced at her. “She’s clued in. Minor talent, freshly discovered. I was getting her up to speed.”

“And I guess that means wearing your clothes, amigo?”

“Long story. Templars.”

He eyed me, but said nothing and walked in, right past my threshold. I wasn’t gonna invite him in, anyway. Everyone goes through my threshold. It may be paranoid, but wizards have survived for so long because of a healthy dose of paranoia. He walked over to Ginger and bowed deeply. “Carlos Ramirez, at your service.”

She looked at him like a sorority girl would a homeless person. “No thanks,” she said.

“Ah, you wound me,” he said, straightening up. “Have no fear, Carlos is a patient man.”

“Los, dispense with the chauvinism. What’s going on?”

His face turned grave. “The door opened.”


	11. Zero to One Hundred

I emerged from the way much as I had before, but this time, Carlos and Ginger were behind me. Ginger more tagged along than anything, but I told her that if she stays close to me, people probably won’t ask. We walked down the halls through the warded arches and to the storeroom.

No matter who or what you are, Rubberneckers always existed. A crowd had gathered around the door, people wanting to look in. Wizards claiming to be experts. I stepped up to the door and waited for the crowd to part. It didn’t, so I used a little magic. I drew in my strength, then lifted my boot and stomped on the ground. The entire area shook and people tripped and fell. “If you aren’t a Warden or have been specifically asked to be here, clear the area,” I said loudly and firmly in Latin, the language of the Council. A few wizards listened to me, but a bald man in celtic paint stuck his chin out.

“I’ve got three hundred years on you boy,” He snarled in Latin.

I responded by whipping out my obsidian sword. It whistled through the air, and I brought it around and pointed it at his chest, square where his heart would be. It was an impressive sight, and everyone knew those swords and what they stood for. With it out, I was acting as a Warden of the White Council, and if he kept me from doing my duty, I was in my rights to skewer him there. He backed down a little.

“Smart man, Crucius. Anyone else want to argue with a Warden of the White Council? We need to work and not be bogged down by gawkers and rubberneckers.”  
Luccio appeared next to me at that moment, placing her hand on the blade of my sword and slowly lowering it.

“Thank you, Warden Espinoza. Wardens Morgan and Ramirez, crowd control. Warden Espinoza, join your grandmother and figure out what you can and…” she paused and looked at Ginger. “Who’s this?”

“Tagalong. I’m having Templar problems. She needs to be registered.”

Luccio nodded and waved over Crucius. “Take the young lady to Peabody, please,” she said. Crucius nodded and asked Ginger to follow him, but she looked at me funny, and I realized she didn’t speak Latin. This was probably confusing.

“You’re gonna go with Crucius to get registered by the Council. You’ll be fine. I’ll find you when I can.”

She nodded and looked at him, then started making fast motions with her hands. Crucius blinked but responded with similar hand motions. At least they both knew American Sign Language. Ginger walked away, and Morgan and Ramirez started ushering people away, leaving me next to Luccio alone.

“Is your response always to whip out a metaphorical sword and start swinging it?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“You should come over for dinner sometime and find out,” I responded, sheathing the blade.

“That’s hardly appropriate. I’m your superior.”

“And you think I have a great ass. We gotta talk about it at some point.”

She turned a little pink. “Right, but not today. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured to the storeroom. I got in, and blinked. Opened? The thing was cracked. Opened meant you could get to the other side. Mi Abuela was sitting at the table I had charred the day before, her arms folded and staring at it. She looked at me when I came in.

“Mijo. Took you long enough.”

“Lita. What have you got? My guess was sorcerer. It’s not Faerie, this door is iron, and a few showed up in Faerie itself.”

She scrunched up her face in a way only an old lady could. “Stumped. The only reason I’m here is because I was mass producing potions in the lab and the thing made a horrendous noise.”

“Noise?”

Luccio spoke. “It sounded like tearing metal, or some kind of horrible screeching. Morgan reported to me and I sent Ramirez to get you at once. I didn’t realize you were… preoccupied.”

“I wasn’t. Don’t be like that,” I said, walking towards the door. Luccio didn’t strike me as the jealous type, and we weren’t even together, so I wasn’t gonna play that game with her. I knelt down and looked at the hinges set into the wall. I had a theory, and took a small q-tip from my backpack, wiping at the hinges. I pulled it away, and it was clean. It confirmed my suspicions.

“It wasn’t screeching. It’s squealing. They didn’t oil the hinges,” I said, standing. Abuela folded her arms and cocked her head, watching me work and not saying a word.

“Perceptive, but I don’t know how…” Luccio began, but mi abuela put her hand on Luccio’s arm.

“Let him work, Ana. He’s good at this,” she said. Only mi abuela could call her Ana like an old friend, or tell her what to do and not ask.

I crossed my arms, wheels turning in my head. I was missing something. Mab was involved. I knew that now. The Templars were too. It wasn’t a coincidence that they attacked the day I decided to deal with this, and they’d been dogging me. They wanted to keep me from investigating. Hell, if my chair hadn’t fallen the way it did in my office, Joan probably would have killed me. I wasn’t ready for her. That led me to another clue. The wet droplets on my floor next to the chair legs. It was ectoplasm, definitely. Mab knew the Templars were coming, and sent a faerie to keep me from dying, so who tipped off the Templars?

It’d have to be a mortal. They wouldn’t deal with anyone else, and probably had tried to kill them in the Temple of Solomon. This confirmed it was probably a mortal sorcerer, but that was as useful as dirt. That could be anyone. I needed more information, and they didn’t oil the hinges. That meant they overlooked the small details. They weren’t very thorough. I punched myself in the forehead a few times to piece the dots together, but it wasn’t working. I had too many missing pieces.

“Have any of the other Wardens been dealing with Templars, lately?” I asked, just on pure intuition. Luccio quirked a smile, and I wasn’t entirely certain that it wasn’t also lust.  
“Harry Dresden, Bill Meyers, and Chandler. We were getting ready to discuss an offensive on their headquarters. They’re a nuisance, and need to be ended.”

“Don’t do that. They want you to. The Templars have never been so open before, and I think I know what’s going on, or at least I have a theory. The Templars are keeping our investigators distracted. Also, I think Dresden may be involved, though not in a bad way. Unfinished business.”

Luccio raised an eyebrow. “Should I bring him in?”

“No. First off, we know he won’t come willingly, and second, it’s a theory right now. Third, it may be better he doesn’t know at all if I’m correct.”

She nodded. “So what do we do about this?” She asked, gesturing at the door.

“Have Warden’s stationed at it, and I need to know immediately if it opens any wider. Whatever is behind it isn’t friendly,” I stated, gathering my things.

“Where are you going, Mijo?”

“To talk to Mab. I assume I can speak to her as a representative of the White Council?” I asked.

Luccio spoke loudly. “Donald, go get my cloak and sword.”

Morgan grunted and I heard his heavy footfalls as he walked off.

“I must get back to the laboratory. There are a few apprentices making potions with me. I have to make sure none of them got the formula wrong. You’ll have your antidotes,” Mi abuela said, and climbed to her feet. She passed by Morgan, who came in carrying a gray embroidered cloak and a silver rapier. Luccio took both, put them on, then looked at me. I nodded, then poked my finger with the dagger, wiped it over the archway of the storeroom, and muttered “Tlapouki kaltentli,” The way to the same cave with the other door shimmered, and then something horrible happened.

There was a horrible screech, a loud bong, then Luccio and I got sucked through the portal as it changed destinations. I didn’t like what I saw either. There was screeching and roaring all around us, and I could see the large towers in the distance, the size of the Strat, and a crystal gate, but the worst part, we were on the wrong side, and there was a writhing mass of tentacles and teeth coming at us at mach speed.


	12. The Other Side

Luccio was faster than I was. I was recoiling from the disruption on my spell, and she pointed her finger at the incoming monstrosity. She didn’t utter a word, but a thin ribbon of fire lanced out of her finger and smashed into the creature, who screamed and veered away, still on fire. It bought us some time, but she might as well have put up a beacon that we were there. Magic was anathema to Outsiders.

She realized the mistake when thousands of creatures squawked, roared, moaned, and made other noises in our direction. She looked stunned, but I grabbed her hand and started running towards the gate. It was gonna be a marathon. Good thing I went to the gym.

“Where are we!?” She asked, running.

“Outside! We’re outside!” I shouted, trying not to focus on the horrible rumbling that was getting louder. If it was a Dhole, I don’t think we could kill it. I saw a bright flash of purple from the top of one of the towers, then a lance of green energy arced towards us and hit the ground behind us. Whatever was chasing us shrieked and the rumbling faded.  
“How the fuck…” She began, but was cut off by a shriek as a winged thing lunged at us, only to be chased off by another bolt of green energy.

“I don’t know. The doors are sympathetic. I was gonna drop us off next to the one in Winter so you could get a look at it. It looks like they didn’t like that.”

Then this confirms…”

“Yes, they lead Outside.”

“I thought you said they… Look out!” She shouted and yanked on my hand. I hadn’t realized we were still holding them. I dropped and a thing that looked like a dog hurtled over me. The canid form was a thing, but that was the extent of canine that existed. It was covered in tentacles, with a long tail, and an elongated head that honestly looked like half a tentacle with eyes and a huge maw. It growled, and I growled back.

“Chinga tu madre, Pendejo!” I shouted and drew my sword, swinging it quickly. The dog, a Hound of Tindalos, jumped out of the way and snarled, then rushed in at me, but I brought my guard up, and it caught traction and bounced back, staying away from my sword. I saw another green energy bolt coming in and pressed to get it caught. It worked, and the dog backed up then got broadsided by the entropy bolt. It literally exploded, showering us in things I didn’t want to remember, and the rest of it shot away from us. I started running again, and Luccio was behind me.

“Guess the Gatekeeper knows we’re here!” she said. I had long legs, but she had raw speed, and we were able to cover the same amount of ground, though I imagine she was gonna get tired soon. I took off one of my earrings, no easy feat when you’re running your ass off, and handed it to her. She looked at it, then at me with a silent thank you, and we paused. She pressed it to her chest in both hands, and there was a green glow from between them. Her breath immediately slowed, and her eyes opened, more determined and resolved. She handed it back, and I shoved it in my pocket, and we started running again. We were already halfway from where we were, and there was a squadron of Sylphs in silvery armor that flew over us and engaged something behind us, their silken dragonfly wings covered in gore, each of them a terrifying warrior. I hadn’t heard anything behind us. We skidded to a halt in front of the gate, and it cracked, and Luccio went through first. I heard a bellow, and the thing with tentacles and teeth that she had lit up came rolling towards me. I also noticed it only had a stump of a tentacle. I spun my sword in my hand and brought it down in a chop, taking a tentacle, then planted my boot in it’s squishy flesh. That was a bad idea, and a few of the other tentacles wrapped around me.

It’s complicated, when you’re fighting something that defies logic, to know what to expect. I guess I expected it to eat me, but that’s not what happened. It used a few tentacles to lift itself up and slammed me into the ground multiple times. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I guess it liked tenderized meat. Luccio yelled, and I could hear her as the gate thudded closed. That was all well and good. It didn’t need to get through. I gathered my will and shouted something incoherent, and then the ground opened up under it. I went hurtling away and shouted again, and the ground closed. There was a single writhing tentacle sticking up from where the thing had been. I groaned, dragged my broken body over to my sword, and did my best to stand, taking a chop at the tentacle as I did. The tentacle severed and writhed around on the ground, and I limped back to the gate. It cracked and I got through, and Luccio immediately hugged me, which caused white hot fire to erupt throughout my entire body, and I screamed. She let go immediately. I fell to the ground, my back to the gate, and there was a chuckle.

“Seraphim Espinoza. Why am I not surprised? I knew it was either you or Dresden that was foolish enough to open a Way on the Outside, and against the Laws of Magic,” Rashid said, wandering over to us.

“It wasn’t on purpose. He couldn’t stop it, so frankly, the law is moot here,” Luccio said, squaring her shoulders. I muttered something rude and sexist to myself.

“Stand down, Commander. Rashid and I are good friends. He knows it wasn’t on purpose.”

She shrank a little, then dropped down to a knee in front of me, unbuttoning my shirt, which hurt a lot.

“This is the worst time, Ana,” I said.

“You concussed idiot, I’m checking the damage,” she protested, and I snorted. Made sense. I was probably concussed. While she did that, Rashid gripped my chin and squinted at my eyes. I didn’t let him do it for long, dropping my eyes to his mouth. No soulgazes, thanks. Not from him. I doubted I’d like what I saw. He grinned.

“He’s not concussed. I think he’s just an idiot,” The gatekeeper said with a cackle. Honestly, at this point, I couldn’t argue with him.

“Can Outsiders hold grudges?” I asked.

“Unlikely. I didn’t think they were that intelligent, but I guess it’s possible. Why?” Rashid said.

“Cause Stumpy there is the one that Luccio torched, and the one I severed a tentacle from a few days ago.”

“You come to the gates often, Espinoza?” Luccio asked and pressed at my side, and the wind got knocked out of me. I gasped for air, and she let up the pressure.

“He came to seek my knowledge on outsiders. I guess that means a broken rib.”

“He’s lucky it’s not more, like a punctured lung. That was a hell of a beating to take for ten seconds.” She stood, taking my arm under her, and Rashid led us into a tower. I didn’t have my shirt and it was left at the gate, but I cared very little about it right now. They got me into a bed and Luccio laid me back, then pulled out a glove from a bag and put it on, then pressed it to my side. I could feel restoration magic flooding through me. It was the most complex of earth magic, weaving life together like that, but she was skilled. “I can fix the bruises and put a bandaid on the bone, but you’ll need a real doctor asap,” she said.

“Perhaps you should explain to me how you ended up outside of the gates,” Rashid said, taking a seat in a chair in the room. I saw a worn prayer mat in the corner. There was a small piece of black stone in front of it. This must have been his room. I filled him in on the events since I left him last. All of them. I didn’t keep secrets from him. He listened to me silently, making tea as I talked, then nodded when I was done. At some point Luccio took off the glove and rested her hand on my side. It was pleasant, and I was sure it was meant to be, but I said nothing. Not in front of the Gatekeeper. Some things are better discussed in private. 

“So, it seems that these doors have a sympathetic magical link that this sorcerer never thought to correct.”

“Exactly. I think that he’s either inexperienced, or he never expected them to come into contact.”

“I suspect it’s both. This kind of magic is over the top. Are we sure that Dresden isn’t involved?” Rashid asked, and Luccio snorted and choked on the tea he had made for us.  
“Well, I think that he is, but as a tertiary party. I need to talk to Mab, and ask her a blunt question. Depending on how she answers it, that will tell me everything I need to know. She’s mixed up in this.”

“I agree,” said Luccio, getting herself back under control. “And I think it’s a dewdrop faerie that came to help you out. Probably at Mab’s instruction. It’d make sense that if she had you in her snares, she’d also try to keep you alive.”

I exhaled and sat up. It smarted a little, but it was better than the pain from before that made me want to cry. This was at least bearable. Luccio removed her hand on reflex, trying to make it look natural. If Rashid noticed, he said nothing. I stood and stretched, and there was a pop that filled me with white hot pain for a few seconds, then it dulled.

“Hey, don’t do that. It’s gonna hurt,” Luccio said with a sadistic smile, and I nodded to Rashid.

“So, this is your problem.”

“It is. I will return to Edinburgh at once and see what I can figure out. I advise that you use caution, and check on the door in Winter. We have no idea what that kind of clash could have done.”

I nodded and went back down the stairs, and we collected my shirt and started walking towards the snowy hills of WInter. I buttoned back up my shirt as we went, kinda wishing I had brought a coat. I was gonna enchant this cloak, and they couldn’t stop me. “So, do you wanna talk about your wandering hands?”

“Only if you want to,” Luccio said, shoving her hands into her pockets. This had been a long time coming, and I’m not sure what the outcome was gonna be. Something about her getting thrown back into a different body had made her act different, like she’d been showing interest in men again.

“I feel like we should,” I said. I was so good at this.

She was silent for a moment, then shook her head. “I used to be better at this. A hundred years ago, I’d have foursomes with the most attractive men and women in town, and I’d model nude for artists. Now I’m… I guess I’m rusty. After I hit menopause in my old body, I didn’t care about boys or women anymore. It didn’t matter to me. I’ve been solitary for well over sixty years, and then the Corpsetaker put me in this body, and now, I have a sex drive, I have desires and needs, and I want to feel love again, and it’s really frustrating. I can’t tell you what it’s like to experience it shut off, then to come back on again. It was uncomfortable, I hated it, and now, I’m cramping and bleeding again, and I sure don’t want that.”

I didn’t feel any need to interrupt her. Had she been able to talk to someone about this? Probably not. I was unique as a Warden. I wore the cloak, but I remembered my humanity, a lot like Dresden, but I blew up less stuff. It probably made me easier to talk to and unload on, and she needed to unload.

“I don’t know Seraphim. I guess I just thought that maybe you’d understand a little. You’re a good person, and a good Warden, but you don’t act like a Warden, and that’s what I like about you. You don’t smell like bacon, as the kids say.”

I laughed at that. Coming from her, it was hilarious, because she looked younger than me. “That’s cause I grew up where bacon doesn’t exist. Community policing is better for the world. I don’t fully understand, but I get urges and feelings and not being able to act on them. I’m a teacher. There’s a lot of things that I can’t say or do in class, and there are people that I can’t tell to go fuck themselves when they laugh in my face. I get it a little.”

“Then you understand how I feel to an extent, and I do like you. You’re easy to talk to, and you’re a good man. I’m not your boss anymore, so there is nothing that says I can’t fraternize a little.”

I stopped walking, and she shrank a little. She wasn’t scared and knew I wouldn’t put a hand on her, and she’d kill me if I did, but I caught what she said, and I think she hoped I wouldn’t. “You’re not my boss anymore?”

She let out a puff of white steam from her mouth. A heavy exhale. We were officially in Winter, and I wrapped my cloak around me. “This is a big secret. I’m trusting you with it. Can I trust you, Seraphim?”

“Yes.” I said, without hesitation. She smiled at the quickness of my reply.

“When the Corpsetaker took my body, they took with it my magical abilities. Not all of them, obviously, but it took time to hone that magic and skill. I can still use magic, and am still a wizard, but it’s like when you get a new focus. It comes at you from a distance, because you’re using a new tool to channel it. You aren’t familiar with it yet. I’m not as strong as I used to be, so I stepped down. Morgan is officially the Field Commander of the Wardens, I’m a Technical Commander. I have tactics and strategy, but I’m not great in combat anymore.”

“So why are you here?” I asked, starting to walk again. It was getting cold sitting still.

“I couldn’t watch a person I cared about storm off to solve a problem without backup.” She slowly reached out and took my hand, and I stopped and turned to her. She was turning pink and not looking at me, and I wondered if it was the cold. “I like you, Seraphim, and if you’d have me, I’d like to see if we can make US work.”

I hated it. I hated that this was happening now, with everything going on. I hated that I hadn’t been to sleep yet, and I hated that my life was a trainwreck, but I didn’t hate Luccio. The idea was appealing, honestly.

“Christo Ana.” I said. I pronounced it Ah-Nah. “This is a horrible time. Let me think about it, preferably when I haven’t been up for a few days straight.”

She smiled at me, then reached up a hand, placed it on my cheek, and kissed me. It was warm and sweet, and the way my face heated up, I probably could have melted the snow, or a wall of Arctis Tor. I pulled at her waist and pulled her into me, and I felt her body stiffen for a moment, then press gently against me, her hand on my chest. It lasted a bit longer than it probably should have, and I pulled away first. She exhaled and rested her head on my chest for a minute, then turned, pulled her cloak tight, and started walking. “Think of it as an incentive. I thought you’d say no.”

To be fair, I thought I would too, but crazier things had happened. It rained frogs in Chicago once.


	13. Queen of Air and Darkness Redux

“So this is Arctis Tor? I thought it’d be bigger,” Luccio said as we approached the black ice walls and the silver gate.

“It’s a metropolis, Ana. That’s a giant city with a palace inside,” I responded, blowing on my hands a little. The trek was longer than normal because of the physics of Faerie, and we took a brief jog across an ice lake, but that didn’t make it any warmer.

“I believe you, but Mab struck me as an extravagant type.”

“Actually, that’s more Titania. Mab is more of a function over form kind of fae, but when it functions, aesthetics are soon to follow. Make no mistakes, Arctis Tor is a fortress, and while it may be pretty, it’s also functional. If things go like I think they will, Mab also won’t be happy that I figured out her mistake.”

Luccio arched a single thin eyebrow, but said nothing as we walked into the gates and through the winding streets, past the goblins, ogres, sylphs, sidhe, and all the other fae that happen to live past the gates. Queen Mab’s vassals, every single one of them belongs to her, otherwise they wouldn’t be here. It functioned a lot like you’d expect a medieval city too, complete with its own forms of coin and traders hawking their wares. Fish they scored from an ice lake or pond, a few had meats like venison or beef that came from the weaker and more animalistic fae, and even fruits and vegetables, though here it was mostly things like potatoes, turnips, and yams. I had to wonder if they were imports like the vegetables were in the real world. We passed through the motley bazaar and to Mab’s fortress, making our way through the open gates. The two troll guards came towards us.

“I guess we’re expected,” I said, then straightened up like an official representative of the White Council.

“Hold, Wizard. You smell of the Outside,” said the chatty one from before.

“That’s because I’ve been Outside. I have the information that Queen Mab struck a bargain with me to gain. Please inform her that I have arrived, as has Warden Luccio of the White Council, who brings other tidings. We worked on this jointly as a show of goodwill to the courts of the Unseelie.”

The troll blinked at me and looked at the other. “He’s contaminated, but we can’t make him go against his sworn oath.”

“Let me speak to the Queen, wizards. Please stay here. We don’t wish to offend, especially those on goodwill, but you are contaminated by the Outside, and it could be harmful,” said the one that went up before, and he disappeared inside the fortress and up the stairs again. Luccio folded her arms, and I wrapped the cloak around me, which probably didn’t look very dignified, but from the pain in my face, I was pretty sure I had a black eye anyway, and the pain from before was starting to slowly radiate out again, like someone couldn’t hold the valve anymore and the pressure was starting to leak out. Luccio was skilled, but healing magic was master tier, and there were those that had dedicated their lives to it and decided they’d rather grow plants than heal a human body.

After a few minutes, the troll came back down with a silver bowl. It was shimmering with crystal clear water, and yes, it had ice chips in it. I wasn’t down for this at all. Without a word, the troll stepped forward and dumped it on me. Half the bowl. I hadn’t gotten a chance to hold my breath or prepare, and he dumped cold ass water on me in the middle of Winter. Needless to say, I was a little grumpy.

“Warning would have been nice,” I said with a glower.

“If I had warned you, you might have moved. Your turn,” he said, turning to Luccio. She got a warning. She closed her eyes and braced herself as the water flowed down her head and across her body, soaking her clothes. They clung to her, and now we looked like drowned rats.

“You’ve been cleansed and may approach the queen. Swords please,” the troll said and we unbuckled our swords and handed them over. The other troll took them and the first led us up the tower and into Mab’s throne room. It hadn’t changed much, but now I knew what to look for. My suspicions were confirmed immediately. The troll placed the silver bowl back in its place as part of the functioning fountain, bowed deeply, then headed back down the stairs. Mab was in a sheer white dress with a slit that went up to mid thigh, and the way she crossed her legs would make a man drool, as would the plunging neckline. I was hardly impressed. Cold water had just been dumped on my head.

“Warden Espinoza, such a --”

“When were you going to tell me your Winter Knight had gotten loose?” I asked, cutting her off and cutting to the chase. She bore a little anger in her gaze, but also surprise and assuredness. I had puzzled it out. She stood and walked down the stairs, every step seeming dainty in her white heels. She walked past us towards the tree where he SHOULD have been, according to Dresden.

“Lloyd Slate is purely a vessel, and no longer my Knight. He holds the title by the fact that I haven’t killed him yet. Only one man can stop his suffering.”

“Yet he’s not here. He’s working with the Templars and using his power to learn sorcery. He’s planning to destroy everything out of the suffering you caused him.”

“That would make sense. The longer he’s away from this tree, the more pain he feels. I imagine it must be excruciating.”

“And he’s willing to end the entirety of existence and let in the Outsiders to make that pain end. You do know that?”

She shrugged. “I know that there is a capable individual that is currently working to stop that from happening. Is that not the case?”

“I promised to find out about the doors, not capture Slate for you.”

“Seraphim.” Luccio said calmly, and I looked at her, Her face was a little fallen. There was a trap here, and I had stepped into it. “Slate is a mortal.”

“Yes.”

“And he’s preparing to break a Law of Magic.”

Fuck. It was true. Mortals that break the Laws of Magic were under the purview of the White Council, meaning that it was the Warden’s job to reign them in, but since he was a vassal of Queen Mab, it was a capture mission, and it was her decision what happened to him. Mab had manipulated me into this. Once a Warden finds a mortal breaking a law, they’re honorbound to capture them. It dawned on me, and must have shown on my face, because Luccio frowned, and Mab smiled.

“We’re done here. Let’s go,” I said to Luccio, but she stopped and turned to Mab.

“Then you know that by the Accords, if he resists, we are allowed to defend ourselves, and if he dies in the process, it’s not our problem. I’m sure the council can pay any weregild for that.”

Mab’s smile turned brittle, like the ice that formed the room we were in. “I think that would be very unfortunate, but you are correct. However, I think it would be very unwise and go against the spirit --”

“There is no spirit of the law, only it’s letter. That’s written in the first few paragraphs, I believe,” I said.

Mab’s smile soured. We were manipulated, but we could at least take the fun out of it for her and force her to choose a Knight that wasn’t Dresden. Two could play at that. “Begone, wizards. If you capture Slate, I want him brought back to me. If he dies, I will demand a hefty weregild. He is my Knight.”

I bowed, just to remain belligerent, but Luccio’s eyes met Mab’s, and there was a flash of enmity between the two. Then Luccio turned to me and we walked out of the tower of Arctis Tor.

“We can’t pay that weregild. You know we have to capture him,” I said.

“I know, but she doesn’t.”

“Then why say anything at all?”

“Because she’s a bitch.”

Well, she was right about that. Mab was a terrible bitch, and once again, I hated that I was working for the fae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! I'm happy to say that with that big reveal, we're coming to the end of the story. We're definitely in the last quarter. I won't be leaving anyone hanging and ending it early or not ending it at all, and I'm happy with the bookmarks, kudos, and everyone else that's stuck with it!
> 
> I may be sporadic with updates. Long story short, internet, but hopefully I can get this finished before all of that happens. Thanks y'all! You're amazing!


	14. The Breaking Point

We stepped back through the Way into Edinburgh, or at least, we tried to. I tried to open a way like I normally do in a random alley in Arctis Tor, but it didn’t open. It was like someone cut the magic in half. I blinked, stunned and looked at the little bottle of fake blood I brought with me when I had to use blood magic in Faerie. You don’t want a fae getting a hold of your blood. I looked at Luccio, who frowned.

“Didn’t The Gatekeeepr say that the sympathetic magic link might have triggered the doors in some way?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because the only reason this wouldn’t work for a Warden is if Edinbrugh was on lockdown. This isn’t good. Espinoza, we need to make our way to that other door. If it opened…”  
“Then those things might be spilling into the streets of Scotland. We need to hurry,” I said, putting the bottle back. At the same time, we heard what sounded like marching, and a bell started tolling somewhere in Arctis Tor. I looked at her, and she at me, and we sprinted towards the front gates. We got there in time to see Mab’s Royal Guard lining the walls of Arctis Tor, and one of the very polite trolls lifted a horn to his lips and blew on it. The dull roar rang out like a clarion call, and the entire town seemed to hum with magic as it did. Luccio and I didn’t really pause to wonder what would happen and slid through the portcullis mere inches before it slammed closed.

We should have stayed inside.

Out on the fields of Winter we saw them. They were led by what looked like a sentient storm, and they rolled and moved with unnatural shapes as they no doubt poured forth from the door that had been opened in their realms. The Outer Gates had been subverted entirely, and Slate and the Templar Order had every plan to wipe this world from the face of reality in their attempt to purify it.

I didn’t waste time talking, just reaching into a pocket of my backpack and wrapping an arm around Luccio’s waist. I popped off the cap of the bottle and downed half of it, then basically shoved it into her mouth, but she was ready, and the potion took effect, the magic wrapping around us and… well, I was a good study under my grandmother. The potion I brewed at the beginning of this mess took hold. It didn’t feel like we moved at all. Just in an eyeblink we were standing in my apartment. I took my arm from around her and made my way to the second bedroom without words, opening the door, and got geared up. I had my ring, my earbobs, placing the drained one on a table to recharge later, but I stripped down and put on black tactical gear and a kevlar vest, then I went to the front room where Luccio was just kinda looking around, waiting for me, and drew the old pistol from my nightstand. Then I heard the sound at my door. It was barely noticeable, but I ground my teeth.

I ripped it open and kicked the other person on the other side so hard, they’re head was spinning. Huntress Margot was on the other side, no doubt bugging it in case I came back, and I grabbed her leg where she had sprawled with one big arm and dragged her ass into my apartment, then slammed the door behind me.

She tried to jump to her feet, but I delivered a blow to her ribs that I usually saved for when I was very, very angry. She coughed, and I kicked her again, then again, then stooped down next to her, racked the slide on my pistol, and lifted her head by the ponytail, placing the barrel of the gun under her chin.

I don’t know what Margot was usually like in this situation. I don’t know if she was graceful under pressure, or if she liked to banter when her life was in danger, but I was a very angry man with a barrel pressed into the soft part of her chin that connected to her neck, and I was ready to fire that gun, as you should be when you drew it. I would kill her, and she knew that. Instead of any defiance, I saw a very scared woman, and almost felt bad. Almost.

“Listen to me very carefully Archangel Margot, or I will send you to your god. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

Luccio was watching me out of Margot’s eyesight. She must have drawn her sword when I drug Margot into the apartment, but now she was watching me, deep worry lines in her face. I was doing only what needed to be done, and I was doing the job of a Warden, but that didn’t make me any less of an asshole. The last kick was a little unnecessary.

“The doors are opening. Where is Slate?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t allowed to know. All I was told was to follow you, keep you busy, and kill you if I could. Slate wasn’t my monster.”

“Your monster? You’re working with him to destroy the world.”

“Christ, for a man so dangerous, you’re an idiot. We didn’t work with anyone before, and we aren’t now. We gave Slate the illusion that we were working with him. He had come across this spell. He wanted to use it to destroy the paranormal and leave the real world in peace. We have a team to corral the mess in Edinburgh. We have teams in South America to contain the door for the Red Court, as well as the White Court. Everything else we’d slowly hunt down. Slate was going to finish this, then we’d kill him too.”

I looked at Luccio. I had an idea of where Slate was. The problem was that Jerusalem was a distance from my apartment. I looked back down at Margot. 

“So here is what I am going to do, Margot. I’m going to let you go. Me and you, we’re done. I don’t want to see you in Vegas again. Your three attempts are foiled. God’s will. You know how it works. You’re going to run back to your friends, and I’m going to storm the Temple of Solomon. Then, we’re coming for you. The Wardens are done with you, and with your kind. We will find you, we will uncover you from your vaunted fortresses and safehouses, and we will salt the earth behind us. Go take that message to your friends.” I let her ponytail go, then drew back my foot and kicked her in the chin hard, and I heard it pop and she let out a cry of pain, then started weeping on my hardwood.

“And go get your jaw fixed. It’s really hard to talk when it’s broken.” I lifted her painfully by an arm, opened my door, and shoved her out, then slammed it behind me.

“Espinoza.”

“Horrible time,” I said, storming back into my second room and got a book down from the shelf. Luccio frowned at me, then went out my front door. I really didn’t care. I wasn’t being nice anymore.

Jerusalem, right? I got out a book on known stable ways to traverse the country. I could have made a potion, but potion sickness didn’t sound like a fun time. While I did that with one hand, I picked up the earbob and closed it in my left hand. It’s a little known fact that I was a lefty, but that meant that I used my left hand to expel energy instead of my right, and did some quick and dirty recharge on the focus. I was overspilling energy, but it was fine. It would seep into my apartment and maybe strengthen my threshold. Luccio came in and leaned on the door, watching me with those big green eyes and said nothing. I knew she went out there and healed Margot’s jaw. I didn’t care. I was tired of all of it. I found the way I wanted, which led to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. It was close enough. I finished the charge and popped in the earbob, then looked at her.

“You have our heading?” She asked.

“Let’s pay the Templar’s a visit.”

“Let’s get some friends first.”

“You can get into Edinburgh?”

“No, but I have an idea.”


	15. Temple of Solomon

No one makes an entrance like a wizard. Sure, people could kick in doors, but there was very little that could make a door blow inward on it’s hinges, shooting shards and splinters across a veritable taskforce of Wardens ready for war and very pissed off, cloaks billowing from the blast. At the same time, I snarled “Maleficio!” and the lights, because at some point they installed artificial lights in the temple burst into blinding white hot filament all the way down the long entryway and into rooms that we couldn’t even see, and the last thing I did was yell “Tlatl!” At the top of my lungs, and the dog rushing towards me in the colors of the Templars had it’s little surcoat burst into flames. It yelped and rolled at the ground then raced off. Say what you want, I have restraint. There weren’t many Templars in the foyer, but those that did weren’t ready to fight a taskforce of wardens. They scrambled and scattered into the main hallway.

I downed my bottle of Mage Armor then spoke. “Luccio, I want you and Ramirez in the library. Find anything useful, then torch it. Thorsten, loot the place. We need to pay to fix Edinburgh. Morgan, Kowalski, and Chandler, with me. We have a Seraphim or four to fight,” I said, striding into the vestibule and then the foyer. No one argued with me and moved to their assigned locations.

Turns out, not all the Wardens were in Edinburgh when it was attacked, and they too had been locked out. Sure, they had Wardens there, but from the sounds of things, the wards worked like they were designed, and the storeroom that the door was in sealed once Luccio and I were thrown off track by my opening spell. Morgan took a task force to find us, and they sealed Edinburgh. As far as things went, the wards were holding. The Wizards were probably the only force that didn’t have casualties from the outsiders. There would be cleanup once the door was gone, but until then, the Wardens were more than ready to drag in Slate. I informed the task force of the objective, and we were ready. I and the other three wardens walked calmly to the door in the back, and I blasted that one off its hinges too, just in case they weren’t sure we were there. I was also ready for what came through the splinters. I dodged to the side and swept my sword in an upward motion, flicking away the blade that came towards my chest, then drew my pistol and fired three shots with an inch spread into the chest of the armored Archangel that had stabbed at me. He dropped, and I stepped over him.

We were in a very large room. It was circular, and there was a man in red Cardinal robes seated in a wooden chair with gold and red accents at the far side. He had his hair cut in a white tonsure, and wore one of the prayer caps. Next to him were four men who wore literal plate mail that had gold etching, and that plate mail wasn’t shiny. If it was shiny, I wouldn’t have been concerned. Shiny meant they had time to polish it, and they didn’t see a lot of action. Each of these men wore a white tabard with the red Iron Cross on the breast tied around their waists with blood red sashes, and their helmet was in the style of the Great Helm that the Templars would have worn, and they were painted blood red as well. I didn’t bother to tell them that plate armor didn’t exist until after the Crusades were over. I also didn’t think shooting them would work. If it were me, I would have lined that armor with ablative kevlar plating.

What took me by surprise was the fifth Seraphim, dressed like all the others, but in black. He had a shield instead of a heavy claymore, and a longsword, and his helmet was fixed on me. The others simply stood at attention.

Finally, in the middle of the stone room was a naked emaciated man with a long white beard. He was cross legged, his eyes were closed, and he was muttering, and there was a shimmering field around him. I recognized the snowflake brand on his neck. Slate. I was right.

The man in red started clapping, but I ignored him, leveled my gun, and fired the rest of my magazine at Slate. The bullets bounced around the room and off of his protective circle, like I thought they would. I hoped maybe the ricochet would wing one of the knights, but they didn’t. The Wardens fanned out behind me, drawing their blades, and the Inquisitor spoke in a loud clear voice, mixing Ecclesiastic Latin with Vulgate when there wasn’t a word in Ecclesiastic.

“Yes, what I would expect from the Wardens. The vaunted military of the White Council. So I take it Slate’s plan failed?”

“For us. You should take a look at the way Edinburgh is set up. Place is like a vault,” I said, pressing the magazine release on my gun. I took out the old mag and slapped in a fresh one in practiced motions, putting the old one on my tac belt to reload later. I had one more magazine after this one.

“Fair enough. I didn’t think he’d even be successful, but I’m pleased that the plan went alright. He said someone had triggered it early. We weren’t fully prepared. I had hoped that the Archangels we sent out would have killed their targets by now.”

“Margot is currently in a hospital getting her broken jaw wired back together.”

The inquisitor stopped and looked at me. I shrugged. “I was in a bad mood. She was just in the line of fire. Also, who’s paying my apartment complex for the graffitti on my door?”

“Wizards. Always so glib. I doubt I can ask you politely to leave?”

“Me, sure, but these men behind me? They chose to be Wardens. This one is our Field Commander,” I said, jerking my thumb at Morgan. “I doubt I could slink away unnoticed, so I’ll probably stick around.”

I felt a prickle at the back of my neck and started focusing my will into my shield. Someone here was prepping magic, and it wasn’t the Wardens.

“Kill them,” the Inquisitor said, and I was thankful for the shield. The knight in black lifted his hand towards me and there was a whoosh as fire lanced at me.

“Chimalli!” I shouted as the shield popped up into a cocoon around me. I watched as other things happened quickly. Morgan chopped his sword at the fire that hit me, which unraveled the spell, but the Black Knight was already moving, as were the Seraphim. Two had started towards Chandler and Kowalski, and another had started towards Morgan. The last moved towards the Inquisitor who disappeared into a hidden trap door, no doubt running, and the final was his bodyguard. Slate didn’t move. He kept muttering, with the shield in place.

I let go of my shield and charged towards the Black Knight, who was eager to engage with me. He brought up his shield, and I skidded to a halt as he swung it at my head. I ended up dropping into a roll, smashing into his knees, and realized that he was really short. That meant a lower center of gravity, and that armor looked light, because he easily stepped over me. I kept up my roll, jumping to my feet as another gout of fire washed towards me.

He was a wizard. The son of a bitch was a wizard. At least a minor talent. I guessed that this was the person that had been feeding the Templars their information, and worse, the magical signature felt familiar. I recognized it, but I didn’t know where from. I slashed my blade in front of me, and cut the spell in two as if it had been physical. Fire washed to the left and right, but didn’t actually hit me, and I charged forward again, ready this time. That shield he used as a weapon as well as a shield, and I couldn’t use magic to kill him, but I could use it to knock him off balance. I jumped like I was in a goddamn anime, using the will I was drawing in to jump higher and be extra dramatic, and shouted “Tlalolin!” then slammed into the ground, using my forte of Earth magic. The ground shook as I hit it, and the room wasn’t really built to earthquake code. A few stones fell and one of the Seraphim slipped, giving Morgan the chance to come in for the killing chop, severing his head from his shoulders. He turned and raced towards the injured Kowalski barely holding his own against the Seraphim hammering on his guard, his rapier letting up sparks with every blow. Chandler slipped a little, but I was gonna have to be a little more careful with the magic. That could have been bad.

I darted forward as the Black Knight was knocked off balance, but he dropped to a knee and brought that damn shield up, forming a bulwark. I planned for that too. I hurtled over him dramatically again, then turned and pointed my finger, snarled “Etiktitsli!” and jerked my hand towards the wall, and the shield got grabbed by the magnetism I summoned up and jerked towards the wall. Instead of hanging on and going with it, the knight let go of the shield, and it hurtled like a deadly missile, clanging into the wall. The Knight was already up and moving, charging towards me with his blade in both hands. I brought mine up in a guard and caught it, but his knee met my stomach, and I dropped and spun away as his blade whistled over where my head would have been. He was deadlier in close combat, but I was in a good position, and I drew my gun, firing every round in the magazine into the breastplate of the templar. The Templar wheezed and staggered backwards, giving me some breathing room, but I was right. That armor was lined with Kevlar. Still, those were shots at point blank range and that hurts the ribs. That was good, because Luccio’s spell was working hard to keep up with my exertion, and I staggered, planted my hand against the wall, and sucked in a breath, my vision swimming.

The Black Knight looked at me and took her helmet off, and white hot anger washed through me. Ginger Fitzgerald was smiling at me.

“I should have known. You’d need to see if the doors were in place.”

“Something like that.”

“So what’s your job? Black Hand or Executioner or something else edgy?"

She rolled her eyes. "I’m the Black Knight. The Inquisition’s personal wizard. Well, I guess minor talent, you’d call me.”

“So that bit with Joan?”

“She didn’t know. I’m not allowed to reveal myself or take off my helmet, but I figured you deserve to know who killed you.”

“Yeah? How’s the ribs?”

She snorted and sagged a little. “Probably broken. Yours? I didn’t do it.”

“Nah. Outsider. Definitely broken.”

She glanced over at our comrades who were still fighting. Another Seraphim had fallen, but Chandler was on the ground, unconscious and bleeding heavily, Kowalski had a limp arm, and Morgan was on the defensive against the final Seraphim. “It’s a shame, but after I vanished from Edinburgh, I felt kind of bad. You’re not a bad man, Seraphim." She rolled her eyes again. "This gets confusing. You're not a bad man, Professor Espinoza, but I’m oathbound to this job.”

“Did you think to break the oath?”

“You know how oaths work once sworn. I was sworn in as a child using my full name. I can’t back down.”

“Then I guess I’d better stop talking. You’re just trying to distract until your buddy can provide backup.”

She smiled and dropped the helmet, then lifted her sword in a salute. I returned it, then did something dishonorable. Another fun part of blood magic. Let my magic spill out, sliced my hand open, then shouted “Nahualli!” drawing on the power in my other earring. My blood surged forward, into her armor. I then crushed her ribs with it. There was a satisfying crunch and she fell with a gasp, and I lifted her armored self with the blood and tossed her at the other Seraphim. They collided, giving Morgan the opening he needed.  
“She’s mine!” I yelled, then marched toward Slate, slicing at the barrier that he had erected. It went down when my sword passed through it, and he started screaming like I was the bogeyman. I grabbed him, spun my fingers in a quick spell I used when I worked in kindergarten for a short amount of time, then pressed on his forehead, and he fell asleep, out like a light. It’d hold him for a few days. Morgan was pulling his blade free from the final Seraphim, and Ginger was just staring at him, trying to breathe. I may have punctured a lung.

“Espinoza, let her loose,” he said, his eyes turning to me.

“It’s not a spell. She has a punctured lung. I’ll handle it. See to Chandler,” I said, gesturing at the prone form on the floor. We gathered outside an hour later, watching as the Temple of Solomon burned to the ground, fire crews unable to put out the ancient building.


	16. Atermath

Eventually, Slate was returned to Mab, but only after he was thoroughly questioned. We found out that severing the circle severed the antimagic that kept the doors in place, and they vanished. Now that the doors were closed, no more outsiders could get through. A grand total of one made it into Edinburgh, but was captured, and is now kept in the lab where research on the nature of Outsiders could be done on it, but under the watchful eye of the Gatekeeper. He was happy to hear how we handled the situation, and led an expedition of veterans into the Outside to make sure that all the doors closed.

They had.

Slate was returned, not because the Warden’s wanted to, and Dresden and I actually agreed on something for once. During the meeting of the White Council, we both petitioned for him to meet the end of a Warden’s blade, but as Luccio had predicted, the Merlin wasn’t willing to pay a weregild to cover the Winter Knight, and he went back, hand delivered by yours truly. I didn’t say anything or even meet with Mab. I dropped him at the gates of Arctis Tor hogtied and one of the trolls came out and grabbed him. It was neat and easy, and I fulfilled my bargain. I felt it lift off of me, and made it out without further deals. That was the best way.

The potions that Abuela was making were needed, but not in Edinburgh. There was a major Warden offensive that I wasn’t a part of, and it was a success. The purging of Casa Verde. Some old Russian satellite fell on the place, but there were still Reds there, so about twenty Wardens went to deal with the problem, and were successful. We didn’t lose anyone.

As for the Templars, they were quiet. They weren’t destroyed. The Inquisitor got away with a Seraphim, and they no doubt had vassals and ancient allies to recruit from. At least their Black Knight was destroyed, or captured, at any rate, and most of their Seraphim died. Chandler was forced to retire, but overall, things went pretty well at the Temple. The sheer number of records that Luccio and Ramirez were able to gain were staggering, and they had information on every supernatural faction from the Denarians to the Dewdrop Faeries. Those books were sent back to Edinburgh and were furiously studied by some of the injured wardens that couldn’t join the offensive, myself included. Broken ribs for me. That information was then disseminated to the rest of the Wizards at the White Council meeting in little leather books that had been written with magic.

So what did happen to Ginger?

I stepped into the room, the bandages making it hard to move. She wasn’t in her armor, wearing simple jeans and no shirt or bra, because she was also thoroughly bandaged. I was right, and I hated myself for it. She had a great rack.

“So, what now? Your organization won’t let me live.”

I sat down on a stool, looking at her in the cell. I set the papers I had brought with me on the table, then opened the cell and gestured at the table. She didn’t fight me, and was wearing anti magic manacles, so like, that was for the best. She sat and pulled the papers over to her.

“I’ll spare you the read. I secured your release.” I went over to a coffee carafe that the normies brewed and left out, and poured myself some coffee and made it the way I liked it. I could almost hear her jaw hit the floor.

“How?”

“You didn’t kill anyone with magic. Not once did you break one of the laws. Sure, you worked for the Templars, but affiliations aren’t our prerogative. There is a catch.”

“Look, if I have to fuck you, there’s better setups.”

I sat at the table, unamused. Wizards pulled off broody well, and I was no different. “You have to tell us everything. You’re oathbound to not betray your order, but your order doesn’t exist anymore. We want to know every last bit of knowledge you have, and if you do that, you won’t be accepted by the White Council, but your writ of execution will be terminated, and you’ll be let loose with the Doom of Damocles. I’m sure you remember that.”

She blinked. “I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth, but why?”

“The reason is two-fold. Reason one, I know you couldn’t break your oath, and I don’t hold that against you.”

“And reason two?”

“Professional. I’m your professor, and if the only witness to my assault goes missing all of the sudden, I’m gonna be under a lot of unwanted scrutiny. I need you alive.”

She snorted like I’d told her a joke, then went over the papers again. “You know...”

“Hmm?”

“I was gonna fuck you that night. That was the plan after Margot failed. Fuck you then smother you in your sleep. We probably both would have enjoyed it.”

And that was that. She told us everything. The Black Knight was like the Head Librarian of the order, as well as a Seraphim because of the magic, and she had a lot of info as a result. Maybe I’ll write it up sometime. I don’t know.

So that’s it, and that’s where things stood, at least until a few nights after and everything calmed down. Then there was a knock on my door.

I groaned and stood, grabbing my pistol and opening it. The ribs were healing, but it still hurt. Luccio stood on the other side of my door, which had been freshly painted.

“Hey. You look like hell.” She said, crossing her arms.

“I’m not inviting you in.” I responded, and she smiled and stepped across my threshold, sating my paranoia.

“We haven’t really had a chance to talk since the Temple of Solomon.” She said, walking over to my mantle and looking at the bits and bobs I had up there. Curiosities and mementos mostly. There was a new blood red sash that decorated it, rolled up.

“No, we haven’t.”

We were both incredibly good at this. I knew why she came over. She wanted her answer, and I had one for her.

What was it?

Hey, we all have secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! I hope you enjoyed it, and as always, if you did, smash that kudos, and I like comments and make it a personal mission to respond to every single one, as should be obvious by now!
> 
> I have headcanons and more, and I don't know if I'm writing a sequel to this. I might, but it's up in the air right now. If you have any question or I have any plot holes that need addressed, ask in the comments, and I'm more than happy to answer it.
> 
> Thanks for the read!


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